


First Contact

by Augustus



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-01
Updated: 2009-11-01
Packaged: 2018-08-16 08:35:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 26,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8095309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Augustus/pseuds/Augustus
Summary: A false accusation at Starfleet Academy brings Jim & Spock together.





	1. Chapter 1

A persistent variant of the legend holds that James Kirk and Spock first met on the Enterprise, following Kirk's investiture as her captain. This legend is incorrect.


	2. Chapter 2

The sleek lines of the main cluster of the buildings that made up Starfleet Academy came into sight as Jim Kirk rounded the final corner. His lungs were burning and his heart pounding as though it were about to go into arrest, but he could hear the steady slap of Gary's feet upon the concrete and knew he was making one last, desperate attempt to overtake. Ignoring the protestations of his body, Jim concentrated on his goal, blocking everything from his mind except the heavy rhythm of his breathing and the appearance of the road as it disappeared beneath his feet.

Gary was even closer, now. His ragged breaths carried towards Jim's ears, the pattern of his footsteps beating a little faster at Jim's rear. They were almost there, though, and the knowledge that he was going to win gave Jim the impetus for one final, shaky burst of speed. One hand outstretched, he touched the flag post with an audible thud of flesh upon metal, and then dropped to the ground where he stood, his chest heaving as he struggled to slow his breath.

Gary's hand hit the metal mere seconds after Jim's. Unlike his friend, however, he remained standing. Leaning heavily against the flag post, he coughed thickly, shaking his head.

"I'd challenge you to a rematch," he said, once he had recovered enough to speak, "if I thought my legs capable of doing anything remotely physical for the next few hours."

"What's the point? I'd only end up beating you again."

Gary reached down to grab Jim's hand in his own, dragging his friend to his feet. "I seem to remember winning the last two times."

Jim nodded, his words beginning to come a little more easily now. "And I won the two before that."

"A minor detail." Gary took a longing glance towards the grassed lawn to his left before resolutely clapping Jim on the shoulder. "Come on. We'd better cool down if we don't want to feel like old men tomorrow."

They fell into an easy pace, instinctively matching each other's stride. After a year of friendship, the young men knew each other so well that neither needed to ask where they were headed. Automatically, they both followed the wide path that circled the Academy buildings, occasionally nodding or waving as they passed someone that they knew, or at least recognised, from class. 

The tightness in Jim's legs slowly loosened, and both his breathing and his heart rate had stabilised long before the entrance to their hall of residence came into sight. The pain of having pushed his body to the limits had been replaced, as always, by the feeling of fatigue-tinged euphoria that followed a particularly good workout. He and Gary were perfectly matched as exercise partners, just as they were as friends. They pushed each other to the very limits and, in doing so, excelled together in ways they never could have accomplished on their own. 

It had not always been that way. For his first two years at the Academy, Jim had been too engrossed in his studies to make time for more than the most casual form of friendship. He'd even foregone dating in the pursuit of his goals — a sacrifice most contrary to his nature. As a result, Jim had easily coped with every challenge the Academy had thrown at him. In the process, however, it had seemed as though he had been forced to suppress a large proportion of his self. 

And then along came Gary Mitchell, who had somehow seen right through Jim's dedication and cultivated stiffness. He'd reminded Jim that there was more to being a Starfleet officer than accumulating knowledge and following rules, a truth that should have been clear to Jim without his friend's assistance. After all, it had been his sense of adventure that had drawn him to Starfleet in the first place, not a masochistic desire to spend his evenings up to his neck in revision. In no more than a matter of weeks, Gary had successfully reignited Jim's yearning for amusement and inbuilt desire for new experiences. What's more, his unwillingness to listen to Jim's excuses had ensured that Jim had soon cultivated a thriving social life to complement his academic one. For the first time, Jim had begun to actively enjoy his time at the Academy, rather than merely appreciating the value of the experience. In return, he encouraged Gary to study more often than when it absolutely couldn't be avoided and dragged him out of situations that were destined to end in a black eye or probation. Although he grumbled and glowered at the time, Jim knew that Gary appreciated his interference just as much as he appreciated that of his friend. 

"Any plans this evening?" Gary asked, raising a hand in silent acknowledgement of the cute brunette who was smiling up at them from the lawn.

"Besides that Engineering test you're supposed to be studying for, you mean?"

Gary gave him a horrified look. "Shit! I'd forgotten about that one."

"You're lucky you've got me, then, aren't you?" Jim said, clapping him on the back.

*

Jim entered his access code, and then led the way into his and Gary's shared quarters, dropping gratefully onto his bed without even pausing to remove his shoes. 

"Wore you out, did I?" Gary teased, although he was quick to take a seat on his own bed, gingerly prodding at his left calf muscle.

"I _am_ older than you, remember."

"One whole year," Gary agreed. "Why, you're positively ancient."

Yawning loudly, Jim stretched and rolled over onto his side so that he was facing Gary. "I'm halfway tempted to take a nap before dinner."

"What about that test?"

Jim grinned mischievously. "Is that your way of asking me to help you revise?"

Gary opened his mouth to defend himself, but then frowned, the words remaining unspoken. His eyes curious, he glanced around the room, his frown deepening. "Does something look wrong to you?" he asked finally.

Sighing, Jim made a show of struggling into an upright position. "Paranoia playing up again, is it?" Rubbing his neck, which seemed to be developing an annoying crick, he followed Gary's example, his gaze flickering around the room. "Your bed has been made a little more neatly than usual."

Gary gave him an exasperated look. "It's not that. The bookshelves look wrong, just for starters."

He gestured towards the shelves, which usually consisted of one neat row of data cards, texts and leather bound classics (Jim's) and a second, not-so-neat collection of cards, battered novels and sports equipment (his own). That day, however, both shelves were tidy and precisely ordered, several of Jim's books mixed in with those of his roommate. 

Frowning, Jim stood and crossed the room, kneeling to examine the shelves. "I take it that _you_ didn't do this, then?"

"Not my idea of fun, Jimmy; you know that."

"Perhaps we had a surprise inspection this morning." Usually, they'd only do that with the room occupants present — and Jim had never heard of the inspectors tidying a room themselves — but he'd long since learned not to rely too much on expectations when it came to the Academy.

"Perhaps." Gary didn't sound convinced. "Hey, did you lock your cupboard this morning?"

"Of course." Rising to his feet, Jim turned to look at Gary. "Why?"

Gary gestured over at the object in question. "Because it's not locked now."

Jim _never_ left their room in the morning without ensuring that his side, at least, was tidy and presented to the Academy's standard, so he was certain that Gary was mistaken, or simply having him on. He moved over to his cupboard anyway, however, happy to indulge his friend. What he _wasn't_ expecting was to find the door undeniably ajar, the code pad blinking an angry red warning.

"Maybe you forgot."

Jim shook his head, tugging the door open. "I never forget."

The contents of his locker appeared to be unchanged. The arrangement of shoes, clothes and toiletries seemed a little different, but Jim couldn't have sworn that anything had moved. Quickly he did a mental count of the cupboard's contents. "Nothing's missing."

"This is _weird_ ," Gary stated, getting to his feet in order to check his own cupboard, which was still firmly closed and locked. He punched in his access code, casting a quick glance over his possessions once the door had opened. "It looks like it's only _your_ stuff, Jim. Are you _sure_ you didn't just leave in a rush this morning?"

Jim shook his head. "I'm sure."

They fell into a thoughtful silence. Jim tried to recall everything he knew about room inspections and the procedure that the inspectors were required to follow. As much as he tried, however, he couldn't remember any situation that would explain the open door to his cupboard and the rearrangement of his books.

His thoughts were interrupted by a crackle of sound, which preceded the room's desktop monitor flashing into life. "Rear Admiral Duncan to Lieutenant Kirk."

Jim exchanged a curious glance with Gary before quickly moving over to the monitor to respond. He had a feeling that they were about to get the explanation that they had been looking for. 

"Kirk here."

Jim recognised the pale face of the rear admiral who gazed sternly through the screen, although he had never had cause to speak to him during his time at the Academy. Duncan was ostensibly in charge of student welfare, which meant, in reality, that he was the person who midshipmen had to plead their cases to if their marks should drop below the minimum requirement. He was also in charge of the Academy security team, but that was a role that Jim had never known him to be called upon to perform. Entrance into Starfleet Academy was too coveted, too hard earned, for indiscretions such as fighting, stealing or cheating to be even remotely common amongst its students.

A brief pulse of anxiety ran through Jim's body as he took a seat in front of the monitor, but he quickly pushed aside his feeling of trepidation. He'd not done anything wrong, and his marks were all within the highest bracket, so there was no cause for him to be concerned. It was likely something to do with the first year Warp Engineering class he helped to teach; a couple of those students had been struggling of late. 

His concerns relieved by this conclusion, he awaited Duncan's reply.

"Ah, Lieutenant Kirk. I'm glad I caught you in your quarters."

"I'm just in, Sir."

Duncan nodded dismissively. "Good, good. I'd like you to come see me in my office. As soon as you can, Lieutenant."

Jim frowned. An urgent matter, it seemed. "I'll change and come there right away, sir."

Switching the screen off, Jim turned to give Gary a perplexed look. "What on earth is _that_ all about?" he wondered aloud. 

Gary shrugged. "Don't ask me. Piece of advice, though?"

Jim looked at him expectantly. "What's that?"

"Take a shower before you go. You stink."

Rolling his eyes, Jim threw the tee shirt he'd just removed directly at Gary's head.


	3. Chapter 3

Rear Admiral Duncan's office was much like all of the other offices that Jim had visited during his time at Starfleet Academy. His desk was broad and covered with PADDs and data cards, while a single photo of a smiling woman and child — his daughter and grandson, perhaps — stood in one corner. Behind him, a large aerial photograph of the Academy adorned the wall. Automatically, Jim picked out his hall of residence and the main buildings in which his classes were held.

Duncan himself was small and colourless. His white hair seemed to match the sickly pallor of his skin almost exactly. Even his eyes had little distinction, faded and blue beneath the snowy lines of his brows. While his appearance was unassuming, however, there was a strong line to his jaw and an intelligent glint in his eyes that warned Jim that he was dealing with a man who was highly competent and accustomed to being treated as such.

Well-trained, Jim stood silently and waited for the rear admiral to address him, despite the burning curiosity that filled his mind. As he waited, he gazed through the window to the Academy grounds beyond it, smiling almost imperceptibly as a particularly attractive midshipman passed by. 

Finally, Duncan looked up from the PADD that he had been studying and gestured towards the chair facing his own. "Please take a seat, Lieutenant Kirk."

Jim did as he was told, sighing inwardly as the midshipman disappeared out of view.

"Do you know why I've asked you to come here today?" Duncan watched him with careful eyes.

"Should I, sir?"

Duncan's eyes narrowed slightly, as though he were assessing Jim's response. "Perhaps not." He made a quick notation on the PADD before pushing it to one side, barely moving his gaze from Jim as he did so. "I have asked you here because a very serious accusation has been made against you. This accusation has since been supported by evidence gained during a search that was carried out on your living quarters this afternoon, pursuant to code D324A of the Starfleet Academy security and assessment policy."

Jim was vaguely aware of his jaw dropping open as the rear admiral spoke. A serious accusation? Evidence found in his quarters? The search would explain the open cupboard and rearranged shelves, of course, but as much as he wracked his brain, Jim couldn't even begin to understand what it was that he was supposed to have done. He knew of plenty of midshipmen who kept prohibited stores of alcohol hidden amongst their underwear, and there had been a mild scandal during his first year at the Academy, when a classmate had been foolish enough to store a particularly lurid collection of Orion pornography in plain view on his bookshelves, but Jim valued his place at the Academy far too highly to take thoughtless risks like that. The only misdemeanour he could think of was the one time he had accidentally spilled a full cup of coffee over an antique Astronomy text, but even then he'd paid for its restoration after owning up to his fault.

"I'm not sure what to tell you, sir," he said eventually, convinced that he had not overlooked any minor crime. "What is it that I'm supposed to have done?"

Again, Duncan regarded him for a long moment before speaking. Jim was beginning to recognise his silence as an interrogation technique — and an effective one at that, given how uncomfortable the stretches of silence felt. "We received an anonymous communication stating that you had been cheating on the various tests that you've been set so far this year. It was also stated that we would be able to obtain proof of such behaviour if we were to search your quarters after 0900 this morning."

Jim stared at the rear admiral, the words circling feverishly inside his head. Cheating? Jim had never cheated in his _life_ , not even when he'd played cards with Sam when they were kids and his brother had possessed the bad habit of hiding face cards up his sleeves. 

"I'm sorry, sir, but there must be some mistake."

"I would like very much to believe that," Duncan replied, his pale eyes seeming to indicate that his words were genuine. "After all, you have always been one of our best students and your record has been flawless up until this point."

"Then what's the problem?" Kirk asked, his frustration beginning to show in his tone. 

"The _problem_ , Lieutenant Kirk," Duncan said firmly, "is that it is extremely hard to ignore the presence of solid evidence indicating that you have been breaking the Starfleet Academy Code of Conduct."

Jim shook his head. "Well, something very strange is going on here, in that case. Because I know I haven't done anything wrong." He frowned, still trying to come to terms with the utter nonsensicality of the situation. "It doesn't even make any sense, sir," he went on. "I don't _need_ to cheat. Ask any teacher who's ever had me in their class. I _know_ this stuff."

Duncan didn't acknowledge Jim's protestations, which Jim took as a good sign that the rear admiral could see the logic in what he had argued. "We will, of course, be making further investigations before we come to a decision regarding your future with Starfleet."

It took a moment for the full meaning of Duncan's words to register in Jim's mind. He was talking as though there were a strong possibility of Jim being excluded from the Academy! And all over a crime that Jim couldn't even understand, a crime that his nature would never allow him to commit. Suddenly, the dire gravity of the situation became horribly clear. His entire future was under threat — and all because someone at the Academy had made a terrible mistake.

He froze, his thoughts falling upon a second alternative. What if it weren't just a mistake? What if someone had set him up on purpose?

"Sir, am I permitted to know what this supposed 'solid evidence' is? In the absence of being able to exert my right to face my accuser, seeing as no one knows who that is, surely the evidence itself could be seen as fulfilling a similar role."

Duncan nodded. "That is only fair."

Instead of picking up the discarded PADD, as Jim had expected him to do, the rear admiral reached into the second drawer of his desk, retrieving a small, bagged collection of multi-coloured data cards. Selecting the only red card, he inserted it into his desktop monitor, pressing a few buttons before spinning the monitor around so that Jim could see the screen.

It took him a few moments to register what he was looking at, as the text covering the screen was densely formatted and held few immediate cues. Quickly, however, Jim recognised the content.

"That's the Astro-navigation test I took last week," he said, returning his attention to Duncan.

"It is."

Jim frowned. "I know that card isn't mine," he said slowly, "but surely even if it _were_ mine, there's no crime in having made a copy of a test after the fact."

"No crime at all," Duncan agreed. "Unfortunately, we also found copies of various tests and assessment tasks that have _not_ yet taken place."

That would explain it, then. It also seemed to confirm that Jim had been implicated less by accident and more due to the malicious efforts of a third party, which did not auger well for his chances of getting himself out of this fix.

"How am I supposed to have gotten my hands on that stuff in the first place?" he asked, wanting, at least, to have as clear an idea as possible of the charges that he was facing. "I can't imagine that it would be easy."

"No," Duncan admitted. "Whoever obtained that information must have found a way to override several security measures. It would have taken a particularly high level of both innovation and technical skill."

At face level, the rear admiral's words were quite innocuous, but Jim was too smart and too self-aware to miss the accusation that ran beneath the surface. The not stated — although heavily implied — addendum was that Jim was one of only a few midshipmen at the Academy who possessed the ability to design and implement a way to bypass the security measures in question. It didn't matter that the thought of doing so had never so much as occurred to him before that day. The important thing was that he was believed capable of the act, both by the people who were investigating him and, apparently, by the person who had placed him in this position in the first place.

Sighing softly, Jim turned to gaze out through the window once more. The lengthening shadows outside indicated that he had been speaking with Rear Admiral Duncan for longer than he had realised. The earlier busy activity of the grounds had been replaced by little more than the occasional solitary passer-by, a sure sign that all of the day's classes had finished and the meals hour was drawing near. As if in confirmation, his stomach clenched with a foreshadowing of future hunger pangs.

Internally, Jim felt like shouting and railing against the injustice of the circumstances into which he had been placed, but he was both too well Academy trained and too sensible to let himself give way to his anger and frustration. Now, more than ever, he needed to present himself impeccably. Abusing Duncan for doing his job couldn't possibly improve Jim's situation — but it could, of course, further compromise it. 

Instead, he straightened his back, raised his chin and looked the rear admiral directly in the eye. "What happens now, sir?"

Duncan nodded, as though he appreciated Jim's directness. "A disciplinary hearing will be scheduled some time in the next forty-eight hours, and will most likely be held in approximately a fortnight's time. In the meantime, Starfleet will further investigate the matter."

 _And I'll be doing some further investigation of my own,_ Jim added mentally.

"You will, of course, be assigned an advisor to represent you at the hearing," Duncan continued. "I recommend that you give him or her your full cooperation."

"Of course. I don't have anything to hide." Jim paused, as another thought occurred to him. "What about classes, sir? And privileges? Do I have to stay on campus?"

"Good question. Normally an accusation of this level of gravity would result in an automatic loss of privileges and full exclusion from all classes until the date of the hearing. In this case, however, the Academy is willing to make an allowance for your excellent prior record." Duncan leaned forward, fixing Jim with a gaze that gave the impression that he must be seeing right through to the thoughts inside Jim's head. "You have a lot of supporters, Lieutenant Kirk, both in the Academy and in the greater Starfleet family. I hope that their faith in you will not be proven to be misguided."

In any other circumstances, Jim would have been filled with pride and gratitude at such a revelation, but in his current situation, it felt like little more than a cruel confirmation of just how much he stood to lose. "Thank you, sir," he said, however, because he knew that it was expected of him.

Duncan stood, and Jim followed suit, recognising the movement as a sign that he was about to be dismissed. His official duties having been carried out, the rear admiral was now regarding him with a softer gaze and, for the first time, Jim realised that he was not his enemy after all, but rather just a man who was doing his allotted job.

"Don't do anything stupid," Duncan warned him. Was that a hint of genuine concern that Jim could make out on his pallid face? "If you've been honest in your public admiration for Starfleet, then you'll trust in the value that Starfleet places upon justice and the pursuit of what is right. As in all things, the truth will out."

Jim wished that he could believe him. At that moment, however, if felt as though everything just and right had already been lost. He had faith in Starfleet's dedication to its lofty values, even now, but the thought of leaving his fate — his _life_ — up to other people to decide both twisted his stomach with fear and went against every grain of his character. He would try not to do anything stupid, certainly, but he had to do _something_.

The question was — _what_?


	4. Chapter 4

As always, Starship Academy's main dining room was a mess of activity and noise, filled almost to capacity with midshipmen of various ages and ranks. The hum of conversation was secondary to the clatter of crockery and the rhythmic scrape of cutlery upon china, the occasional burst of laughter turning heads as it rose above the general noise.

The seating in the dining hall was not allocated but, by about the third or fourth week of every academic year, an informal routine was established. Generally, the Academy residents sat at the same tables for every meal, forming small clusters of friends and occasionally separating into couples in order to flaunt the fraternisation rules under the cover of the metal table tops.

For his first two years at the Academy, Jim had shared a table with the more studious members of his year. It hadn't been unusual for him to spend an entire meal time with a book held open in front of him, Jim only raising his head to make conversation when it couldn't be avoided. Since he and Gary had become friends, however, meals had become much more social occasions. These days, Jim sat at a noisy table, made up largely of young men in their first year at the Academy. The female presence at the table generally consisted of those women currently dating the table's usual inhabitants, which was often limited to Gary's true love of the week.

The seat to the left of that usually taken by Jim had remained empty for four weeks, filled previously by the girl he had fooled himself into believing he was going to marry. It had ended badly, of course, as such affairs generally do. Jim hadn't spoken to Lisa since the break-up, but the empty chair existed as a constant reminder of her, one that would surely have been unpleasant if Jim had retained anything beyond mild feelings of fondness for his ex.

That night, as always, Lisa's old seat sat empty. Jim was pleased to see it, as it meant that he would be able to speak to Gary in relative privacy. Placing his loaded tray on the table, he slid into his usual chair, clapping Gary on the back in a silent greeting.

Jim had obviously arrived later for the evening meal than he had realised, as Gary had already made a fair amount of headway into his main course, which appeared to be a pale imitation of beef lasagne. Glad that he had chosen the chicken dish for himself, as it, at least, _looked_ edible, Jim appeased his growling stomach by gulping down several mouthfuls before taking time to speak.

"Well?" Gary prompted him, his own meal seemingly forgotten.

Jim took a long drink of water, diluting the tasted of overcooked chicken that lingered in his mouth. "I'm in big trouble," he said finally, "and I don't know what I'm going to do about it."

Gary frowned, his expression a mix of sympathy and intense curiosity. "Not just a social visit, then?"

"Not unless the definition of social now involves disciplinary hearings and the threat of being excluded from Starfleet for good."

Gary's eyes widened as he took in Jim's words. "What the hell? Did it get to be April first without me realising?

Jim shook his head, pushing his food around on his plate before stabbing a piece of chicken with his fork and unenthusiastically eating it. "As much as this feels like some kind of elaborate practical joke, I'm afraid it's all too real."

"Is this anything to do with our room being messed with?"

Jim nodded. "Security went through my stuff looking for evidence."

"And they didn't find anything, right?" Gary's unwavering faith in Jim was gratifying, even if it _had_ led him to form the wrong conclusion in this instance. 

"Oh, they found it all right." Jim's appetite had abandoned him, but he forced himself to continue eating anyway, knowing that he'd be out of luck if he refused to eat now, only to end up starving later that evening. "I've been thoroughly set up. It would almost be impressive if it weren't _my_ ass that was on the line."

Gary's initial shock was beginning to morph into anger for his friend. "What the hell are they saying that you did, Jim? This whole place knows that you're just about the most honourable person here."

Jim smiled sadly. "Those opinions may well change once this gets out."

"Mine won't."

Jim gave Gary a grateful grin, and then began to fill him in on the details of his meeting with Rear Admiral Duncan. The more he talked, the darker Gary's expression became and, by the time Jim reached the conclusion of his account, Gary's fingers were curled so tightly around his knife and fork that the flesh was faded almost to white by the pressure. As Jim finished speaking, Gary pushed his plate away with an angry clatter that drew the attention not only of their own tablemates, but also of several midshipmen sitting at other tables nearby.

"Hey, let's not make this public just yet," Jim said softly, resting a calming hand on Gary's arm.

For a moment, Gary's body grew even tenser, and Jim half expected him to pull away from his touch. Soon, however, the tension began to fade, his shoulders sagging as he slumped down in his seat with an audible sigh. "Sorry, Jimmy," he muttered quietly, "but this shit is really fucked up."

Despite himself, Jim couldn't help but grin. His entire future might be called into question, he could be accused of all manners of crimes, but Gary would always be Gary. It was a welcome realisation.

"So, anyway," he said, "now I'm supposed to sit tight and wait for them to assign me some kind of advisor — who, presumably, is just going to reiterate just how non-existent my chances are at getting out of this mess."

"If I were you, I wouldn't leave my life in the hands of some stranger."

"My thoughts exactly." Jim leaned in a little closer, dropping his voice. "Feel like joining me in a bit of detective work?"

Gary grinned. "Hey, _someone_ has to keep you out of trouble."

Jim managed to keep a straight face for about five seconds before he succumbed to the laughter building in his chest. "I think we just stumbled into a parallel universe," he spluttered.

"It feels _good_ being the responsible one for a change," Gary said, puffing his chest out in a fair impression of pride.

"Well, how about using some of your newfound responsibility to try to work out who might hate me enough to want to get me kicked out of the Academy in disgrace?"

"That's a poser, isn't it?" Gary frowned, pulling his tray back towards him and resuming his massacre of the lasagne as he thought. "I don't suppose you've wrecked any homes recently? Been sticking your dick anywhere you shouldn't have?"

Jim rolled his eyes. "I generally leave that to you. Besides, don't you think you'd have heard about it if I had?"

Gary tapped the side of his nose. "A gentleman never kisses and tells, Jimmy."

"That would explain why I always have to hear about _your_ exploits, then." Jim smiled wryly. "No, there hasn't been anyone since Lisa."

Gary waved his fork in the air, sending a blob of minced beef onto the table top in front of him. "There's your answer. Lisa."

"Lisa?" Jim thought about it for a moment, but quickly dismissed the idea. "No, she's not capable of doing that sort of thing. She was pretty upset when we broke up, sure, but she doesn't have it within her to be this kind of malicious. Besides," Jim added, "I'm pretty sure that she fancies a different kind of revenge. Have you noticed how much time she's been spending with that science professor recently?"

"The one with the buck teeth? Ew." Gary seemed to ponder that for a moment, before realising that there were more pressing issues at hand. "Anyway, I still think she's a suspect."

Jim smiled, confident that his friend was wrong. "Whoever set me up has to be some kind of near-genius with computers and electronics. You know Lisa. Keep her in the science lab and she's one of the best technicians you'll ever find, but move her out of her comfort zone and she flounders. She's no more capable of the kind of knowledge required to pull this off than you are of going more than a week without falling for some new girl."

"Hey, no need to get personal!" Gary protested, but the glint of amusement in his eyes indicated that he didn't mind at all.

"So, we've established that it wasn't Lisa," Jim said firmly. "Which leaves us no further along than when we started."

"We'll work it out." Gary's tone was light, but the look he gave Jim was so full of concern that Jim couldn't help but smile. "It's obvious that _someone_ fitted you up. All we need to do is work out _who_."

Jim looked at him, shaking his head slightly. "You've never once considered the possibility that I might have done it, have you?"

Gary turned to face Jim, giving him a perplexed look. "Why would I?"

Jim's smile stretched into a wide grin. He was in trouble bigger than any he'd known since enrolling in Starfleet Academy, but his life wasn't all bad. Gary Mitchell was proof of that. "Thanks, Gary."

"No need to get all _girly_ about it, Jimmy," Gary dismissed him, talking through a mouthful of lasagne. "I get enough of that crap from Jessica."

Jessica? Jim had been sure that Gary had still been dating Sarah from the Xenobiology department the previous evening. He opened his mouth to ask the obvious question, but closed it again with the words left unspoken. The complicated mess that was Gary's love-life was a topic best left for another occasion.

The sound of the chair to Jim's left being drawn back from the table pushed all thoughts of Gary's girl of the week from Jim's mind. Curious, he turned to see who it was that had finally put the ghost of Lisa's former presence to rest – and found himself facing the completely unexpected sight of a Vulcan placing a tray of half-eaten food on the table, then sliding his lanky body into the empty seat.

Turning back to Gary, Jim discovered that his friend was looking just as confounded as he felt. He raised his eyebrows in a silent question. Gary raised his own in a gesture that Jim pretty sure meant _how the hell should_ I _know_?

Remembering his manners, Jim spun in his seat once more, fixing the Vulcan with a tentative smile. His gaze was drawn to the contents of the newcomer's tray. The glass of water looked normal enough, but the greenery spread upon his plate looked more like the product of an afternoon's weeding than anything remotely approximating food. 

"Remind me never to ask for the vegetarian option," Jim muttered, completely forgetting the manners he had discovered only minutes earlier.

The Vulcan turned to regard him impassively. "My people do not usually eat the flesh of animals," he said, his voice cool and unusually low, but not entirely unpleasant. "My options are, therefore, rather limited."

Jim smiled weakly. "That's got to be annoying."

The Vulcan did not return his smile. "I am Spock."

"Jim Kirk." Confused by Spock's sudden interest in him, Jim nonetheless held out his hand. It never hurt to be polite.

Spock nodded, ignoring Jim's hand. "I know."

Although Jim had no recollection of ever having spoken to Spock in the past, he was familiar with the upperclassman, at least by sight. After all, it was hard _not_ to notice the only Vulcan at Starfleet Academy. Jim had no idea whether Spock had followed an earlier precedent, or whether he was the precedent himself, but he _did_ know that it had to take some serious balls to be the only member of your race at a place like the Academy. What's more, he'd heard his teachers singing the Vulcan's praises in the past. According to Lisa, who had encountered him through her position as a scientific lab technician, he was quite brilliant. Jim had a vague memory of a situation she'd once related to him: something about Spock having corrected his professor's calculations, stumbling across some important new scientific formula in the process.

Science was _not_ one of Jim's areas of expertise — he much preferred hands-on tasks and innovation to dry formulae and theories — but he readily respected anyone who excelled at what he or she did. From everything that Jim had heard, Spock certainly deserved his respect. His manners, however, left a lot to be desired.

Choosing to ignore the newcomer to the table for a moment, Jim concentrated instead on forcing down the remainder of his meal. Unappetising when hot, the chicken stew was barely edible at all now that it had cooled to a tepid mush. The final few mouthfuls were a struggle, but Jim persisted, pushing the plate away with relief once he was done. _Starfleet can travel to the furthest reaches of the universe, and yet they still can't manage to prepare a decent meal_ he thought, smiling wryly before washing away as much of the taste as possible with the rest of his glass of water. That trial out of the way, he returned his attention to Spock.

Jim was unsure why, all of a sudden, Spock had decided to join their table. He had certainly shown no interest in socialisation in the past. In fact, now that Jim thought about it, he was pretty sure that the Vulcan usually spent meal times alone, isolated at the end of one of the less crowded tables in the dining hall. If it had been anyone else, Jim would have just come right out and _asked_ the reason behind the sudden appearance, not being the world's greatest proponent of tact, but he had a feeling that such devices might not be appreciated by a Vulcan. Inter-race etiquette had been one of his worst subjects in his first year at the Academy, but he was pretty sure that asking direct questions was one of those things that non-Humans were known to object to. Or perhaps that was compliments. Or sneezing. Jim had always had trouble with that section of the curriculum.

Direct questions were out, then. Compliments and sneezing as well, although Jim hadn't really been thinking along those lines anyway. That left the question of what a guy _was_ supposed to say to a science genius Vulcan who had randomly planted himself down beside him in the midst of said guy trying to work out how not to get thrown out of the Academy. Jim had a feeling that even the fourth year classes didn't cover stuff like that. He had no choice but to wing it.

Deprived of any sensible options, Jim just ran with the response that came most naturally to him. Turning back to Spock, he raised both eyebrows in what he hoped was an obvious expression of irony. "Come here often?"

Beside him, Gary snorted.

Spock, on the other hand, seemed to be completely oblivious to the cheesy nature of Jim's question. "That would depend upon your chosen definition of the term 'often'." Placing his fork neatly beside his plate, he turned to regard Jim with unblinking eyes. "I have been taking most of my meals in this room for the last three point two one five years, which could, I suppose, indicate regularity."

Jim gaped at him. If he'd been talking to anyone else, he'd have assumed that they were having him on, but he got the impression that Spock was being completely serious. To his right, Gary snorted again.

"The food's pretty bad, isn't it?" was the only think Jim could think of to say in response.

"I believe it is nutritionally adequate."

Jim and Gary exchanged a look. This Spock was almost weird enough to take Jim's mind off his current troubles. He may, in fact, have succeeded in doing so, had Gary not been even less mindful of remaining polite than Jim was. 

"So, not to make you feel unwelcome or anything," he began, leaning across Jim to direct his question towards Spock, "but is there a reason for you suddenly deciding to grace us with your presence?"

Jim elbowed his friend in the stomach. "You'll have to forgive Gary," he said to Spock, as Gary himself made a show of ostentatiously rubbing his injured abdomen. "He has a tendency to speak before thinking. You're perfectly welcome to sit there whenever you like."

"You are very generous," Spock replied, his expressionless face somehow managing to communicate his disdain nonetheless.

Around them, the table was slowly beginning to clear. As the midshipman to Spock's left pushed back his chair and headed over to return his crockery and cutlery to the kitchen, Spock moved a little closer to Jim and spoke again. "I realise that you must be curious about my decision to join your table," he said, his voice so soft that Jim had to strain to hear him over the noise of their fellow diners, "but I did not wish to expose any matter that you preferred to remain private by speaking when others may have overheard."

Jim frowned at him, confused. "What on earth are you on about?" he asked, the words slipping out before he could stop himself.

"On about?"

Jim smiled sheepishly. "Sorry. I'm just not sure what you're saying."

Spock took a quick glance around the table and then, presumably satisfied that he was not going to be overheard, spoke at a slightly louder volume than he had previously employed. "I overheard your conversation with your friend and I believe I have some information that could be of assistance to you."

Jim stared incredulously at him. "You... overheard?"

The Vulcan had to be lying. Gary was never particularly good at keeping his voice at a confidential level but, amidst the noise of the dining hall, even Gary's loudest exclamation wouldn't have been able to be understood from more than a couple of chairs away. For someone to have heard every detail of their conversation from another table was not merely unlikely; it was just plain impossible. 

"I don't want to be rude, Spock, but I'm afraid I can't believe that. No one could have heard us from way over there."

Spock raised an eyebrow. If Jim didn't know from his classes that Vulcans were not moved by emotional reactions, he would have been certain that he'd seen a brief flicker of annoyance on his face. "My physiology is not as limited as that of a Human. I assure you that my hearing is perfectly capable of comprehending a conversation from the distance in question."

"Super-hearing, huh?" Gary's own hearing was obviously functioning efficiently as well. "Is that something to do with the ears?"

Jim threw Gary a pointed look, partially to disguise the smirk that was threatening to take over his lips. "Even if you _are_ able to eavesdrop on private conversations from great distances," he said, only returning his gaze to Spock when he felt sure he could control his face, "I don't see how you'd be able to help me at all. This is between me and the Academy."

"Personally, I would have said that it was between you, the Academy and the man who placed the offending matter in your quarters," Spock replied calmly, ignoring Jim's eavesdropping comment. 

"Man or _woman_ ," Gary corrected him. "I'm still not one hundred per cent convinced that Lisa didn't do it."

"It was definitely a man. My eyesight may not be quite as sensitive as my hearing, but it is more than adequate for distinguishing between male and female Humans."

Jim opened his mouth to dismiss Spock's assertion, and then frowned. "Wait. Are you saying that you _saw_ someone breaking into my quarters?"

"Negative. I am saying that I may have heard the culprit expressing his intent to do so."

Jim stared at Spock, his mind busy. If Spock were willing to repeat what he just told Jim at the disciplinary hearing, surely the Academy would have to believe that Jim was innocent! At the very least, Spock's testimony would undermine the integrity of the evidence against Jim. If he were lucky, his reputation might provide the further influence needed for the Academy to decide he was not at fault. 

"Would you be willing to say that at my hearing?"

"Certainly." Spock nodded. "I would be morally remiss if I did not."

Jim wasn't so sure about that, but he wasn't about to look the proverbial equine in its mouth. "Thanks," he said instead. "That'll be a big help."

"I am not convinced it will be of any assistance at all. My testimony would be hearsay, not fact."

"But everyone knows that Vulcans can't lie!" Gary interjected. "They taught us that in Xenobiology."

"Indeed." Jim could have sworn that was a glint of amusement in Spock's eyes.

Dismissing the thought as ridiculous — after all, everyone _also_ knew that Vulcans were completely bereft of any sense of humour — Jim focussed instead on the problem that he was facing. 

"I don't suppose that you recognised the guy you heard talking about this?" he asked hopefully.

Spock shook his head. "I am afraid not. His face was familiar, but beyond that, I can only be certain that he was a midshipman, and that we do not share any classes."

Jim chewed his lower lip, deep in thought. "I guess that means it's also fair to say that he's not well-known in the Science department? I presume you genius-types tend to stick together?"

There went that right eyebrow again. "Genius-types?"

Unable to help himself, Jim grinned. "Let me guess: Vulcans are as modest as they are honest."

"On the contrary. False modesty is an entirely Human trait. It would be illogical for me to deny my own intelligence. I was merely questioning your choice of terminology."

"Smug bastard," Gary muttered, just loud enough for Jim to hear.

Spock must have heard him as well, given his heightened hearing ability, but he showed no sign of having done so. It struck Jim that this probably wasn't the first time the Vulcan was referred to in such a manner... and that it was unlikely to be the last time, either, all things considered. 

After all, while Spock was unquestionably polite, and while Jim was appropriately grateful to him for his willingness to assist in Jim's defence, there was nevertheless something irritating about the young Vulcan. Jim felt guilty even admitting it to himself, aware that their differences were largely explained by their disparate races, but all the same, there was something about Spock that made him feel a little uncomfortable, a little ill at ease. He reassured himself with the knowledge that Spock seemed similarly uncomfortable around him and Gary. He respected the Vulcan, certainly, but it wasn't as though two such different people could ever become friends.

Jim gradually became aware that Spock's eyes were fixed upon him, as though he were waiting for Jim to speak. Feeling another pang of guilt for the fact that he had been dissecting Spock's flaws instead of thinking about the matter at hand, he took a breath and refocussed his thoughts.

A sudden question occurred to him. "This guy. Would you recognise him if you saw him again?"

"Without question." Spock's voice was confident. 

"Well, if you see him and I'm around, could you point him out to me? It may not help me to clear my name, but at least I'd know who I can't trust any more."

"And _I'd_ know who to accidentally trip in the quad," Gary added.

Spock nodded. "I will do what I can."

"Thanks."

Looking around, Jim realised that they were among the last people to leave the room. Picking his tray up and pushing back his chair, he turned to ask Spock one final question as he and Gary followed suit. "I don't mean to sound ungrateful — because I _am_ , definitely — but why are you doing this, Spock? You didn't need to get involved. You could have just ignored what you had heard and gone about your business without getting yourself tangled up in a complete stranger's problems."

The way that Spock looked at him made Jim feel like he'd just made the most ridiculous statement ever. "It is the right thing to do," he said, as if that were the only explanation that was required. Perhaps, for him, it was. He continued, however, presumably for Jim's benefit. "If I were to allow an injustice to occur when I was able, in any small way, to prevent it, it would be morally reprehensible."

"So it's not about me at all, really," Jim said lightly. He didn't care either way, of course, as long as he got to stay at the Academy and clear his name, but it would have been nice to think that his charm might extend even to Vulcans. 

Spock stared at him blankly for a moment, and then a slight twitching of his eyebrows indicated his understanding. "It would be unfortunate for Starfleet to lose one of its most promising prospects," he said mildly, then turned and left without another word.

"That guy is _weird_ ," Gary pronounced, a slight sneer to the corner of his mouth.

"Weird," Jim echoed, even as he wondered whether Spock was so bad after all.


	5. Chapter 5

The following day, Jim sat through his classes, barely taking anything in. None of his teachers commented on his unusual lack of attention, which made him wonder whether the news of his alleged activities was already common knowledge among the Academy's staff. The thought did little to improve his concentration. As much as he tried to focus on each class, his mind would invariably return to his predicament.

After dinner, he and Gary had spent the rest of the previous evening in their shared quarters, trying to come up with an infallible way to prove Jim's innocence. Their brainstorming had proved fruitless, however. In the end, it all came down to the unavoidable fact that it was Jim's word against that of his anonymous accuser and, more importantly, against the evidence that had been found amongst his possessions. Spock's offer to testify about the conversation that he had overheard had seemed like a gift from above at the time — albeit a gift that came in a humourless, pointy-eared wrapping — but the more he and Gary had talked it over, the more Jim realised that he would need more than just an eavesdropping Vulcan if he wanted to be sure to clear his name.

The dilemma of how to find the additional evidence he needed had been the main thing occupying his thoughts during class. A few times, he found himself wondering what he'd do if he _couldn't_ find a way to prove his innocence, but he pushed those thoughts away as quickly as they came. Worrying about possibilities wouldn't help Jim to ensure they didn't become reality. He was far better off concentrating on finding a solution, even if he _did_ feel as though he was just going in circles at that particular moment.

Jim's final class of the day finished at 1600 hours. He took his time in gathering up his possessions, wishing to avoid the possibility of being drawn into conversation by one of his classmates or, worse, his teacher. Jim was very adept at putting on a front of normalcy where needed, but had more important things to do that afternoon than hear about Alec Davis's new girlfriend or Patty Baker's news from home. 

So effective was his plan that, by the time he hoisted his bag over one shoulder, Jim was the only person left in the room.

Gary's last class was in a different building, so they met, as planned, at the flag post that had acted as their finish line the previous day. Less than twenty-four hours had passed since Jim had been summoned to Rear Admiral Duncan's office, and yet it felt as though he had been living under the shadow of the accusation for weeks. As he passed several clusters of chattering and laughing midshipmen, he found himself wondering momentarily how they could seem so carefree, before realising that he, too, had been similarly light-hearted only the day before.

Gary was already at their meeting place when Jim arrived. He lay, sprawled on his back, with his eyes firmly shut, his head resting in his hands and his overly full bag discarded to one side. As Jim grew closer, he realised that Gary was barefoot, his shoes lying on the grass near his feet, the tips of each sock poking out from where they'd been stuffed. _Only Gary_ , Jim thought as he approached, feeling a warm rush of fondness for his friend.

"Any strokes of genius?" he asked, dropping down onto the grass beside Gary.

Gary slowly opened his eyes, turning to blink sleepily up at Jim. "I generally leave those up to you."

"I'm all out at the moment, I'm afraid."

"How was class?"

"Long." Jim ran a hand through his hair and shrugged. "I can't remember a damn thing about anything we discussed."

"Welcome to my world," Gary said lightly, although his eyes were sympathetic. 

Sighing, Jim watched as two upperclassmen walked by, tossing a ball back and forth between them as they moved. "I'm starting to think I need a miracle."

"Since when do you believe in miracles?"

Jim smiled grimly. "That's the problem; I don't."

There was not much point in reiterating the things that had already been said, nor in revisiting potential solutions that had turned out to be flawed, so the two friends remained silent for several minutes, Jim running through the same old thoughts in his head while Gary fluctuated between looking thoughtful and eyeing the pretty blonde who was studying in the sun nearby.

It was Gary, therefore, who spotted him. "Hey, is that Spock?"

Jim looked up. The Vulcan was making his way across the lawn towards them, his back held so stiffly that Jim couldn't help but wonder whether the pole up his ass acted as a kind of brace. He snorted aloud, earning him a curious look from Gary, but then quickly forced a neutral expression onto his face. It wasn't fair to mock Spock when he was helping Jim out — even if he _were_ such an easy target.

"What's up, Spock?" he said mildly, as Spock came to a halt near Gary's feet.

Spock looked skywards.

Jim managed to bite back his laugh before it escaped from his throat, but Gary was not as polite. "It's an _expression_ ," he said between snickers. "It's a way of saying hello."

To his credit, Spock didn't seem at all bothered by Gary's amusement. "I have not heard that one before. Your Earth expressions are highly illogical."

"You've never heard it?" Jim looked at him, curious. "It's pretty common."

Spock did something with his eyebrows that Jim was pretty sure amounted to a shrug. "I do not spend a great amount of time in conversation, beyond that required to carry out my work."

Jim frowned. "What about your friends?"

"Friendship is a Human concept."

"So, in other words, you don't _have_ any friends," Gary extrapolated. "Why doesn't _that_ come as a big surprise?"

Jim poked his friend in the side to shut him up. Although Spock didn't seem at all bothered by his lack of companions, Jim nonetheless didn't consider it an appropriate thing to joke about. He, himself, had spent his first couple of years at the Academy as a loner, after all, and although he would have sworn at the time that he was happy as things were, there were times when the loneliness overwhelmed even his dedication to his studies. Despite Spock's stoic appearance, Jim found it hard to believe that he never succumbed to such moments of loneliness. You couldn't be the only Vulcan in a place like Starfleet Academy, couldn't be completely friendless, without it occasionally bringing you down.

If that were the case, however, Spock certainly didn't seem the type ever to show it. Ignoring Gary's insult, he instead turned to nod down at the latter's feet. "Are you aware that being barefoot while in uniform is an offence under code 319C?"

"I wasn't aware that you were the uniform police," Gary replied snidely.

"I am merely thinking of your wellbeing." Spock's tone and expression were blank but, nevertheless, Jim thought he couldn't have conveyed less sincerity if he had said the words while flipping the bird.

Gary grumbled something beneath his breath — something that was probably all too audible to Spock's ears — but he sat up all the same and began the task of putting his socks and shoes back on.

"Was there something you wanted?" Jim asked hurriedly, in an attempt to diffuse the tension between his companions. "I mean, no problem if there isn't. You're more than welcome to just... hang out," he finished lamely.

Gary threw him a look that quite plainly said _he damn well is_ not _welcome_ , but Jim chose to ignore it.

"Actually," Spock replied, "I thought you might be interested to know that the person I overheard speaking about your predicament is currently sitting outside the main science building."

Jim was on his feet without even thinking. "Hurry it up with those shoes, Gary. We don't want him to disappear before we can get over there to check him out."

Gary snorted, even as he did as he was told. "You really must be getting desperate for a date if you're to the point of checking out the guy who had you fitted up!"

Jim gave him a disparaging look. "That is _not_ what I meant, and you know it." Turning to Spock, he went on in a significantly less exasperated tone of voice. "Sorry, I didn't even ask; do you mind showing us who this guy is?"

Spock nodded. "I do not have any pressing commitments."

His shoes now in place, Gary clambered to his feet. "He sounds just like you before you lightened up, Jim," he said, lightly punching Jim in the chest.

Jim hoped that his friend was exaggerating. Sure he was the first to admit that he'd been a little grim about his studies before Gary's influence had begun to take hold, but he was quite certain that he'd never been as stiff and unwelcoming as Spock was. He frowned. At least he _hoped_ that was the case. Being as dull as a Vulcan was _not_ the way he'd like to be remembered.

Spock, interestingly enough, was looking at Jim as though he didn't consider him even _remotely_ capable of the kind of single-minded behaviour that Gary's comment had implied. Jim had a feeling that their new acquaintance didn't think very much of him at all, which made it all the more intriguing that he was so willing to help Jim out. He couldn't help but wonder how he must appear through the eyes of someone like Spock. Did it seem like he wasn't taking his predicament seriously, simply because he remained capable of joking with his friends? Or was there a part of Spock that wondered whether Jim was truly guilty, a part that had summed up what he had seen of Jim's character and concluded that he was capable of the crime? There was no way to know without actually _asking_ Spock, and that just wasn't the sort of thing a guy could do.

It shouldn't matter anyway, Jim told himself, whether Spock thought him guilty or not. The important thing was that he was willing to help regardless. Besides, everyone knew that Vulcans were unfamiliar with emotions like friendship and love. There was no point in feeling disgruntled about Spock not falling over himself to befriend Jim when he just wasn't capable of that in the first place.

Gary led the way to the science building, with Jim and Spock walking side by side behind him. A couple of times, Jim attempted small talk, but it quickly became obvious that Spock's cool politeness did not extend to idle chitchat about the weather. Uncomfortable with silence, Jim tried again, this time asking about Spock's studies and finding that he could converse with surprising animation and interest where matters of science and engineering were concerned. Jim, too, felt more at home talking about his own academic focuses and his future plans, and he couldn't help but feel pleased when Spock's initial disparaging expression changed slowly to one of begrudging respect.

When they arrived at their destination, there were several small groups of midshipmen scattered about the paved area that adjoined the building. Gary came to a sudden halt, turning to look at Jim and Spock with an expression that suggested that he wasn't particularly pleased that they had found an area of common interest to discuss. "So, is he still here?" he demanded.

Spock nodded. "Affirmative."

Jim felt his stomach clench in anticipation. He couldn't tell whether he was nervous or excited. "Who is it?" he said quickly, cringing slightly when he heard the blatant note of eagerness in his voice.

"He is seated to the right of the building entrance," Spock replied, and Jim tried to look without making his interest too obvious. "There are two other midshipmen with him. They are both dark-haired, while he is a redhead."

It took Jim a moment to work out the group to which Spock was referring but, when he did, the sight of the redhead struck him in what was almost a physical manner. "Walsh," he breathed, his jaw sagging.

Beside him, Gary swore quietly.

Oddly enough, despite all of his and Gary's discussion to the contrary, Jim had never really believed that the person who had set him up might be someone whom he personally knew. It had been so much easier to believe that it must have been some random classmate who was sick of Jim getting better marks. Then it wouldn't have been so much about Jim as it was about his achievements; it would almost have been like a warped kind of compliment, in a way. For it to be someone who _really_ knew Jim, though... well, that made it unavoidably personal. It was a comment upon Jim's character and his actions, and there was no way of twisting things around to make it seem more positive. This was about hatred, pure and simple, and it was more than a little disconcerting to realise that Walsh saw Jim in such a way.

"That bastard," Gary spat, his expression darkening as he watched Walsh talking with his friends. "I should have guessed."

Spock turned to Jim, his eyes curious. "I presume you know the man."

Jim nodded. "Afraid so. His name is David Walsh. It's a long story, but I used to date his best friend."

Spock's eyebrows twitched. "Is that one of the men he is speaking to?"

Jim couldn't work out whether Spock was teasing him or whether Vulcans were surprisingly cool about that sort of thing. Either way, the question was unexpected. "No, her name is Lisa. Lisa Evans."

A glint of recognition lit up Spock's dark eyes. "I believe I have encountered her in the course of my studies."

"That's right. She mentioned you on a couple of occasions."

"Oh?" Spock looked pleased. Did that count as an emotion, Jim wondered, or was it something that Vulcans were actually allowed to feel?

"She thinks you're pretty brilliant, by all counts," Jim said without thinking. 

Gary's back was to him, but from the disgruntled huff of breath that carried to Jim's ears, he was pretty sure his friend was rolling his eyes.

"I do not understand." Spock's attention was fixed firmly on Jim. It was as though he could block out Gary entirely at will. "If you and this man are friends, why would he want you to accused of cheating?"

"We're not friends," Jim corrected him, smiling wryly.

"Thank god," Gary added, turning to face them. "The guy's a creep. He's been in love with Lisa for just about _forever_ , although she won't ever listen if anyone should try to tell her that. He hated Jim from the moment that Jim and Lisa started going out, though of course he was never _honest_ about it. He'd be as sweet as pie to Jim whenever Lisa was around, but the moment she turned her back, he was full of snide comments and ridiculous accusations."

"He was just as bad with Gary," Jim added. "He didn't like the fact that Lisa would often choose to spend time with us and _our_ friends, rather than with Walsh and _his_ friends."

"Then, of course, Jim broke up with Lisa. Which, I might say," Gary continued, "was exactly what he _should_ have done. We're far too young to tie ourselves down with fiancées and commitments, especially when they come with fucking annoying best friends. Walsh, of course, went absolutely ballistic, because the only thing worse than someone dating the woman he was in love with was, of course, someone doing just that and then dumping her."

Somehow, Spock managed to focus in on the least important part of Gary's angry speech. "Fiancée?"

Jim grinned sheepishly. "Moment of stupidity. Several large glasses of brandy were involved."

Spock's eyebrow was sky-high once again. "Humans are most peculiar," he pronounced, looking as though he hadn't the slightest idea what to make of the entire situation.

Jim's grin broadened. "What's the matter, Spock? Don't you have ex-girlfriends on Vulcan?"

"It is not the norm, no."

"Huh." Jim wasn't entirely sure he wanted to contemplate a world without ex-girlfriends. It sounded pretty good in theory — right up until the point where you realised that no ex-girlfriends would unavoidably mean no girlfriends (at least not in the plural) at all. "That must get boring."

Spock watched him for a moment before replying. "I would think that 'boredom' would nonetheless be preferable to your current situation."

Jim snorted. "You may just have a point there, Spock." And, if he didn't know better, he would have been sure that was a gleam of amusement in Spock's eyes.

"Blah blah blah, Vulcans are morally superior, blah blah blah," Gary drawled, shaking his head. "Can we please save the cultural exchange for a more opportune time?"

Even that didn't seem to bother Spock in the slightest. "I should leave you to consider your plan of action," he said mildly.

"Plan of action?" Gary repeated derisively. "I say we go right over there and _beat_ a confession out of him."

Jim placed a steadying hand on his friend's shoulder. "Your rabidly protective plan is flattering, but flawed. As much as I'd like to thrash Walsh halfway to Mars, I don't particularly want to replace a charge of cheating with one of assault."

"A confession under duress would be inadmissible," Spock added helpfully.

"It would be worth it," Gary muttered petulantly.

Jim gave Gary's shoulder another squeeze. "I think we have to be a little more devious about this. Walsh isn't about to hand himself into the Academy just because Spock overheard him talking about his plan. If we accuse him, he'll only deny everything. What's more, then he'd know we were onto him, and that would be it for any chance we might have of catching him out some other way."

Gary nodded begrudgingly. "You're right as always," he said, obviously doing his best to look exasperated, although his efforts were thwarted by the unmistakeable fondness in his voice.

"Agreed," Spock said, much to Jim's surprise. Equally unexpected was the warm feeling of pride that rose within his chest at the knowledge that the Vulcan approved of his reasoning.

"Of course," Jim continued, a little less decisively, "the million dollar question is what do we do instead?"

"If I might make a suggestion..."

"You don't usually ask first."

Jim grinned at Gary, but nodded for Spock to go on.

"I am still only a novice where Human psychology is concerned," he began, "but I would think it most likely that, should a person think his actions had failed, he would feel compelled to act again."

Jim took a moment to process Spock's words. "So you mean," he said slowly, "that we should trick Walsh into thinking he failed, in the hope that he'll slip up somehow if he tries it again."

"Affirmative."

"That might just work," Gary admitted begrudgingly, giving Spock a nod of acknowledgement that practically amounted to high praise, given his instinctive dislike for the Vulcan. "Beating him up would be far more fun, though."

Spock conveyed a thousand words with one flicker of his brows.

Over by the science building, it looked like Walsh's conversation with his friends was drawing to a close. They were now standing, although they remained deep in conversation. Jim's suspicions were confirmed when one of the dark-haired midshipmen raised his hand to bump fists with Walsh and the other man in turn, before heading off in the direction of the western hall of residence.

Obviously, Jim needed to act quickly if he intended to act at all. He barely thought for a second before reaching a decision. "I'm going to talk to him," he announced resolutely.

"I'm coming with you." Gary held up his hands in mock surrender. "No violence; I promise."

Spock directed his words towards both of them, but his eyes remained firmly upon Jim. "Good luck."

Jim slapped him on the back, only realising as Spock stiffened that you probably weren't supposed to do that with Vulcans. "Thanks. I think we'll need it."

Spock nodded and turned to leave.

Gary waited barely until he was out of likely earshot before muttering, "Self-satisfied Jerk."

Jim wasn't entirely sure he agreed.


	6. Chapter 6

Jim watched Walsh carefully, even as he spoke to Gary. "Follow my lead."

"Yes, sir!" Gary joked, but Jim knew he could rely upon him to be serious when it was needed. For all his levity, Gary was already showing strong signs of the excellent tactician that he was sure to become in time. "I take it you have a plan, then."

The corners of Jim's mouth twitched into the shadow of a smile. "Not so much a plan as a faint inkling," he admitted. "I figured I'd play it by ear."

Gary nodded, following without further comment when Jim began to make his way over to where Walsh was in the process of saying goodbye to his friend. Jim waited for them to part, and then strode right up to Walsh, pasting a wide, but insincere smile on his face.

"Dave!" he exclaimed, clapping the midshipman on the back as though he were a long-lost friend. "I haven't seen you in ages!"

Walsh turned to identify the source of such an exuberant greeting, his face registering a brief expression of something akin to mild horror, before smoothing out into a mask of serenity. "Kirk." He turned to acknowledge Gary, his face still blank. "And Mitchell as well. Do you two ever do _anything_ alone?"

"I generally manage to shower unaided," Jim answered mildly.

"Except for when you need me to scrub your back for you."

Jim grinned at Gary. "You know I haven't done that since you tried to take advantage of me."

Gary snorted. "So that's why you started locking the door."

Walsh was watching their playful exchange though narrowed eyes. "Did you actually want me for any reason, or did you just need an audience for your comedy act?"

That was Jim's cue to turn the charm up to full power. "Aw, come on, Dave! We haven't talked in weeks! Surely you can spare a few minutes to catch up."

Walsh looked like that was the absolute last thing that he felt like doing, but he nodded anyway, his mouth stretching into something that was probably supposed to be a smile, despite the fact that it looked more like an expression of pain. "Sure," he muttered. "Why not?"

Jim exchanged a glance with Gary. The fact that Walsh had willingly agreed to spend time in their company was a sure-fire indication that something was, indeed, up in Walsh-land. Jim couldn't remember the last time that Walsh had been anything more than icily civil to them without Lisa's presence acting to temper his reactions. Now that Jim and Lisa were no longer dating, he had no reason to fain politeness any more, let alone to encourage contact with two people he so obviously disliked. Unless, of course, he was trying too hard to look like he had nothing to hide.

"So, what have you been up to?" Jim asked lightly, watching Walsh closely as he answered with a long and uninteresting account of the topics he was currently studying in class.

David Walsh was a highly intelligent man. Jim knew this not only from his time dating Lisa, but also from the fact that Walsh's name often topped the list of honours for his year level. Although only in his second year at Starfleet Academy, it was already obvious that Walsh had a strong career ahead of him, if only he could master the more subtle qualities that went into the making of a good officer — qualities like empathy and tact and an understanding of one's own infallibility. Jim struggled with the latter two traits himself at times, but Walsh had always struck him as someone who didn't care. No matter how many times their instructors told them that there was more to excelling than book smarts, there were always a few midshipmen who struggled with the concept. Generally, the stark reality of life aboard a starship during their training voyage was enough to make the lessons sink in. Jim had a feeling, however, that Walsh might not _ever_ let go of his conviction that his way was the only one that counted.

Small and freckled, with hair that was a murky shade of orange. Walsh had barely registered on Jim's radar before he and Lisa had begun to date. He knew many of the second year students, at least by sight, but Walsh was neither the type to strike up a conversation, nor to catch Jim's eye with his looks. They hadn't met, therefore, prior to their being introduced to each other through Lisa. Although ostentatiously welcoming in Lisa's presence, Walsh soon made it very obvious when her back was turned that he didn't appreciate Jim's presence in their lives. Openly resentful of the fact that Jim was three years younger than him, yet a year above him at the Academy, Walsh was particularly fond of making snide comments about his immaturity, pointing to Jim's close friendship with Gary — a first year — as a prime example. Such comments had never bothered Jim, however. He saw Gary as his greatest asset; Walsh had a poor awareness of where he needed to hit Jim for his insults to achieve the desired effect.

Walsh and his obvious — and rather creepy — devotion to Lisa were definite contributors, nonetheless, to the demise of Jim and Lisa's relationship. Jim could easily handle Walsh's disapproval, but Lisa's refusal to see Walsh's interest in her as anything more than friendship had become increasingly irritating as time went on. Add to that the fact that the thought of settling down and being tied to a commitment that didn't involve starships and the infinite expanse of space filled Jim with the kind of dread that kept him awake past three AM, and it wasn't particularly surprising that the relationship had ended.

Jim had expected Walsh to greet the news with joy — and perhaps he did in private — but instead he had reacted with an intensification of his previous dislike for Jim. In front of Lisa, he had accused Jim of cheating on her, with everyone from Lisa's sister to Gary, and even suggested that the relationship had been a pretence on Jim's behalf from its very inception. Admiring Walsh's wish to avenge his friend's pain, if not the way he chose to go about it, Jim had willingly allowed the confrontation. By its end, however, he was aware of two things: that he bore not one shard of regret over having ended the relationship, and that David Walsh was _not_ his greatest fan.

For him to be standing there now, therefore, talking politely — if unenthusiastically — about his week, was a fairly good indication that Walsh had something pretty enormous to hide. Something hovering around the size of setting Jim up to be thrown out of the Academy, perhaps. There was only one way to be sure.

"You wouldn't _believe_ what happened to me yesterday!" he said, cutting into Walsh's description of some dull conversation that he had had with his instructor. "It was absolutely mad."

Walsh looked a little _too_ uninterested in what Jim might have to say. "Oh yes?"

Jim ran through the basic details of the previous day's events, carefully leaving out a few specific details where necessary. As he listened, Walsh's face remained completely blank, but his eyes gave away just how closely he was paying attention to Jim's account.

Jim tensed slightly when he reached the point in the story where he needed to part from the truth, willing Walsh to believe his words without question. "I've never been as glad in my life to have a completely clear record," he said, watching Walsh's face carefully. "Rear Admiral Duncan sure made me worry for a while there but, in the end, it turned out that I was never really a suspect. He was just going through the motions — making sure things were done by the book."

"So... you're not actually in trouble?" Walsh's voice was unnaturally light.

"Jim's the Academy's golden boy," Gary answered for him. "It'd take a lot more than a few lousy data cards for them to believe _he'd_ been up to no good."

Jim was very aware that Walsh hadn't asked the obvious question: whether or not Jim was guilty of the charge the Academy had made. It was one thing for Gary to accept Jim's innocence without question, but another thing entirely for Walsh — who seemed to consider Jim capable of all kinds of evil — to do the same. It wasn't necessarily proof that Walsh was the person who had framed him, but it certainly was a strong indication that _something_ was amiss.

"I'm not so sure about the golden boy stuff," Jim continued, not wanting to lay it on _too_ thickly, "but apparently the fact that I had a good reputation made all the difference. Duncan said something about how one accusation couldn't completely wipe out the record I've been building over the last couple of years."

Walsh frowned, finally showing a reaction. "But I thought you said that they found evidence in your room."

Jim shrugged casually, even though his mind was racing. He hadn't thought about how he was going to explain away that part of things. "I guess there was a problem with it," he said, throwing Gary a look that his friend would hopefully interpret as the request for assistance that it was. 

Gary looked at him blankly for a few seconds before his eyes lit up. Turning to Walsh, he leaned in as though he were conveying a state secret. "Apparently the cards were all blank."

Walsh's voice had a distinct yelp-ish tone to it. "What?"

Gary nodded. "Blank," he repeated. "I don't know whether they were blank to begin with, or whether they _had_ contained some kind of illicit material that was somehow wiped by something in our room, but they were definitely blank. It was probably that electronic disruptor you've been working on, Jim," he added, turning to regard Jim with an expression so serious and so out of character that it took all of Jim's self restraint for him to resist bursting into laughter right there and then.

"Probably," he agreed, trying to convey his appreciation of Gary's inventive with his eyes. "Either way, I'm very grateful. I doubt I'd have got off anywhere near as easily if they'd actually found something incriminating in my room. It's one thing to discount an anonymous accusation, and another thing entirely to ignore solid evidence of wrongdoing."

"True," Walsh muttered, his eyes distant.

"Still," Jim concluded, keeping his voice light, "it looks like I have an enemy. Gary and I are pretty sure it's someone from one of my classes."

"There's that guy who you beat out for the teacher's assistant position," Gary contributed. "And don't forget Brunt. He's still mad about what happened the night that you and Lisa broke up."

Jim had no idea who Gary was talking about, but he supposed it didn't matter, as long as Walsh didn't think that they considered _him_ a likely suspect as Jim's accuser. "It doesn't really matter who it was anyway," he said, smiling broadly at Walsh. "The important thing is that they failed."

Walsh smiled weakly. "I guess so."

"So, there's our drama of the week!" Gary said brightly.

"It certainly sounds very... dramatic." Walsh looked around, as if searching for an excuse to leave. "I'll have to pass the story on to Lisa."

Jim had a feeling that Walsh would be doing nothing of the sort. "At least it has a happy ending," he said, unable to resist a final chance to convince Walsh that his plan had failed.

"I'm glad." Despite his smile, it was very obvious to Jim that glad was about the one thing that Walsh was _not_. 

He exchanged another look with Gary. He didn't want to overdo it, but he also didn't want to leave without being absolutely sure that Walsh had bought their alternative account of events. Gary nodded almost imperceptibly and, encouraged, Jim turned to Walsh. "Look, it's been great talking to you again, but we should really head off if we want to get in a run before dinner."

"Don't be a stranger," Gary added, turning on his most charming smile.

Walsh looked at Gary as though he were mad, but managed a smile anyway. Jim clapped him on the back and turned away.

"Say hi to Lisa for us!" He grinned mischievously, safe in the knowledge that Walsh couldn't see him do so. 

They somehow managed to get out of sight before bursting into uncontrollable laughter. Every time they began to get themselves back under control, they met each other's eyes and then they were bent over with laughter again, flushed and gasping for breath.

"Poor Walsh," Gary said between giggles, once he was actually capable of speaking again. "I reckon that was the worst ten minutes of his life."

"I don't know." Jim stopped to get his breath, leaning heavily against the wall of the Astronomy building. "I doubt he enjoyed Lisa telling him that we were engaged."

"I would have _paid_ to be there to see that."

"You and me both."

When they had fully recovered from their laughing fit, they headed back towards their quarters. As much as Jim could have used the chance to run off some of his frustration and tension, it was more important that he and Gary should use the time to plan out their next move. 

"I think we can be pretty sure that it was Walsh," Jim said as they walked.

"Unless he's suddenly found religion or undergone a massive personality change."

"That would be nice... but probably unlikely."

"I don't know what Lisa sees in him. It's kind of hard to comprehend how she could have such good taste in boyfriends, but such appalling taste in friends."

"Why, Gary." Jim gave him a coquettish look. "I didn't know you cared."

Gary snorted. "I'm _way_ out of your league."

"In your dreams, perhaps."

"You know, I feel all dirty after pretending to actually like that guy." Gary shuddered. "The moment we get back to our room, I want a shower."

"It's a bit like that, isn't it? It's almost like his slime rubs off on you." Subconsciously, Jim rubbed his palms against his thighs, as though to clean them. "It was worth it, though. Did you see his face when I said that Duncan let me off?"

"He's a pretty good actor, but he still looked a lot like someone had just shot his dog."

As the eastern hall of residence came into sight, Jim was mildly surprised to see the usual groups of midshipmen sitting and talking in the sun. For some reason, it seemed wrong for life at the Academy to be going on as usual when Jim's life had been thrown into disorder by the accusation. Everything had changed for him; it seemed only natural that it should also change for everyone else. Instead, however, the rest of the Academy continued on as though nothing had happened — and, Jim supposed, for most people, that was the case.

Shaking his head to refocus his thoughts, Jim turned to clap Gary on the shoulder. "Come on. We'd better go let Spock know what happened, and then I suppose we need to work out what to do next."

"Spock?" Gary asked, his tone distinctly unenthusiastic, but he willingly followed Jim anyway.

*

Jim had thought that Gary had been joking around when he had said that he needed to shower after their little performance with Walsh, but as soon as they got back to their room, he did, indeed, head straight for the bathroom. Jim figured that it was the perfect opportunity to contact Spock without having to deal with Gary hanging over his shoulders and making snide comments every five seconds. If, of course, Spock happened to be in his own quarters. Jim didn't think he was really the type to sit around waiting for Jim's call.

As it turned out, however, he managed to get through to Spock on the first attempt. His face, when it appeared on the monitor, looked unsurprised even for a Vulcan, as though he had been expecting Jim to contact him to relay the details of his conversation with Walsh, even if he hadn't actually been waiting around for the call. 

Jim was surprised to see Spock wearing a plain black tee shirt, looking surprisingly casual in the simple attire. For some reason, he'd never imagined Spock wearing anything but his uniform. Hell, Jim even would have sworn that Spock slept and showered in immaculately pressed Academy silvers — well, he would have if he'd had any inclination to picture Spock in the shower. There were some people who looked ridiculous in a uniform, and some who seemed born to wear it. Spock definitely fell into the latter category.

Subconsciously, Jim tugged at the collar of his own uniform, which was probably looking a little worse for wear after a full day of classes followed by the confrontation with Walsh. It was a pity that Gary wasn't there to stand behind him so that Jim could look immaculately groomed by comparison.

"Thanks for pointing Walsh out to us this afternoon." Jim jumped straight to the point, having learned from his failed attempt at small talk earlier that day.

Spock nodded. "You're welcome. Was your conversation successful?"

"The guy's as guilty as sin."

"I had said as such." Spock looked irrefutably smug.

"I know. I just... wanted to be _positive_ before I started accusing him of something like this. After all, I'm all too familiar with what it feels like to be accused of something you didn't do. 

"Understood." Spock paused for a moment, his eyes thoughtful, before continuing. "Have you decided what your next move will be?"

"Gary and I were going to try to come up with something this evening."

"Ensign Mitchell—"

Jim jumped in before Spock could finish his sentence, fairly certain that he was not about to say anything particularly positive. "Is an unfaultable friend and an extremely promising tactician."

Spock did not argue, but his disbelief was evident from the line of his raised brow.

"Smart people can have fun too, you know," Jim laughed. "I'm sure even _you_ let your hair down every now and then."

The eyebrow lifted a little higher.

"It looks like I'll have to do my best to corrupt you once all this is over," Jim said mischievously, earning a bona fide look of horror from Spock as his reward.

The Vulcan was far too fun to tease, Jim was beginning to realise. He was the perfect mix of pleasing reactions and indulgent acceptance of the teasing. It was odd, really. Jim would have thought that Spock would have found the Human tendency towards good-natured ribbing a foreign and unpleasant custom. Instead, there was something about his mild reactions to Jim's jibes that suggested that he could give as well as he got, if only he could be persuaded to let his guard down in some way.

Jim smiled at Spock, gradually becoming accustomed to the fact that he could not expect a mirroring smile from Spock in reply. "You know, I don't know what I would have done without those ears of yours."

"I am sure you would have arrived at the same conclusion via another route."

" _I'm_ not. Walsh is a creep, sure, but Lisa used to love me. I know she wouldn't want this, no matter _how_ mad she was when we broke up. If you hadn't said anything, I would have just gone on assuming that there was no way Walsh would do anything that Lisa would disapprove of."

"He undoubtedly believes that she will not find out."

Jim sighed. "You're probably right." A thought suddenly occurred to him. "Uh, your roomie isn't there, is he? Because..." That was something he probably should have checked _before_ he had started talking about the situation — and especially before he had mentioned both Walsh and Lisa by name.

"I have my own room. You need not worry."

"Is that a Vulcan thing?"

If Jim didn't know better, he would have _sworn_ that was a slight smile at the corners of Spock's lips. "Actually, it is a fourth year 'thing'."

Jim could feel his cheeks reddening. "I guess I just can't see you with a roommate. Did it drive you insane?"

"To the contrary. I am rarely bothered by environmental distractions. I do believe, however, that my roommates considered me a less than ideal companion."

Jim could see that. He couldn't imagine sneaking in a bottle of contraband, only to have Spock watching disapprovingly as he gulped down each fiery mouthful. More to the point, how did you ask a Vulcan to study in the library for a couple of hours, simply because that cute girl from your class had finally agreed to go back to your room to 'revise'? It would be Gary's worst nightmare; that was for sure. He complained enough as it was about the religious roommate he had been assigned to before he had arranged to room with Jim instead.

"I like the company, myself. If I'm not careful, otherwise, I spend all my time studying and barely remember to come up for meals."

Jim supposed it was a pleasing testament to the impression that he had gradually been making that Spock didn't look entirely disbelieving, as he surely would have done only a day earlier.

"If I might offer a suggestion..."

Jim raised his eyebrows expectantly. "Of course."

"If your conversation with Walsh this afternoon was enough to convince him to act again, it would be advisable to ensure that you make a record of the event."

Jim frowned. "Film it, you mean?"

"Affirmative."

Jim looked around the room. "Somehow I think even Walsh would notice the sudden appearance of a security camera in our quarters."

"It would need to be well concealed," Spock agreed.

"All very well, but I can't just waltz into Academy Security and ask them to lend me one of their cameras."

Spock looked at him as though he were missing something obvious — which, Jim supposed, he presumably was. "The Academy seems to consider you capable of bypassing their security systems. Are you saying you are _not_ capable of constructing an appropriate set-up for your requirements?"

Jim just stared at him for a long moment before bursting into self-effacing laughter. "How did I ever survive before I met you?" he choked out between chuckles. 

"It is, indeed, a mystery."

Jim's laughter died as quickly as it had started as, stunned, he gaped at Spock. "See, I _knew_ you had a sense of humour!"

Spock's expression may have been a little _too_ innocent as he replied, "I was merely agreeing with your point."

"It was more than that and you know it." Jim grinned at him, but he wasn't foolish enough to try to press the point. "So. What are you doing tomorrow?"

"Generally, I study on Saturdays."

"Nothing fixed in stone, then, which leads me to question number two." Jim gave Spock what he hoped was a winning smile. "What are you like with electronics?"

Spock didn't look at all surprised that Jim was pursuing that line of questioning, but then, Jim realised, he probably wouldn't have looked surprised even if Jim had asked the question whilst standing on his head. It was a steep learning curve, trying to adjust to the Vulcan art of looking mildly bored at all times.

"My abilities are more than adequate for the task."

With anyone else, Jim would probably have turned on the charm, but Spock was not just anyone. "In that case, I could use your help," he said, guessing that straightforward honesty was the best tactic. "In theory, it's simple, but I'd hate to miss something and find myself even further in hot water, rather than out of it entirely."

Spock nodded. "It would be an interesting challenge." His face lost a fraction of its customary stiffness as he went on. "I admit that I am curious to see the outcome of the affair."

There was a soft hiss of opening doors behind Jim as Gary entered the room. Jim turned to greet him, rolling his eyes when he saw that his friend was dressed only in a towel. Noticing that Jim was speaking to Spock, Gary leant over him to grin at Spock from only inches away from the monitor's screen.

"Sorry, Spock. I didn't realise we had company," he joked, before moving over to his cupboard to retrieve a clean change of clothes. Jim had a feeling he allowed his towel to slip a little too low on purpose. 

Shaking his head, he turned back to Spock, who had acknowledged Gary's behaviour only through the raising of one brow. "How's ten for you?"

He and Spock finished working out the details for the following day, and then said their goodbyes. As the monitor faded to black, Jim realised that he still knew very little about Spock, but that somehow, despite this, he was beginning to like him. There was something about his stoic manner that Jim found calming, and the occasional glimpses that he witnessed of the man who lay beneath the façade intrigued Jim and made him anxious to delve deeper and learn more.

Gary, on the other hand, seemed not to have changed his opinions of Spock very much at all. "You guys seemed awfully chummy," he said as he dressed.

Jim gave him a bemused look. "I don't think Vulcans _do_ chummy, Gary."

"I never used to think they did chatty, either, but that one seems willing enough to talk to you for hours on end."

Ignoring Gary's exaggeration, Jim moved over to his bed, removing his shoes before stretching out on top of the covers. "He's been a great help."

"We would have managed without him."

"Funny." Jim smiled. "That's what _he_ said."

Gary grimaced. "I just don't see what's so great about him, that's all."

His words finally clued Jim in to what the true problem was. In a way, he should have realised sooner, but he'd never witnessed Gary acting in such a manner before, so he had no prior experience with which to compare his actions. Once he realised it, however, it seemed glaringly obvious. Gary was jealous.

"He's helping me; that's all," Jim said firmly. "He's not about to replace you, or anything ridiculous like that."

"Impossible. No one could live up to me," Gary said flippantly, but his eyes betrayed the fact that Jim's reassurances were appreciated nonetheless. 

"Besides, I need your help too," Jim went on. "You may not have freakishly good hearing, but I would have floundered completely without you there this afternoon. I had _no_ idea how I was going to explain away those damn data cards."

Gary looked gratified — and distinctly less irritable. "I'm pretty indispensable; it's true." He grinned slyly. "Even if you _don't_ look at me the way you look at him."

Jim had a feeling that he was walking straight into a trap, but he asked the question anyway. "And how, exactly, do I look at him?"

"Like you wouldn't mind seeing him out of uniform... if you know what I mean."

"I know what you mean," Jim said, shaking his head and continuing on quickly before his mind could delve too deeply into the mental images that Gary's comment was trying to raise. "And the reason I don't look at you like that is because I've seen it all before. Many times. And so has Spock now, too, for that matter," he added as an afterthought.

"Lucky bastard," Gary said, grinning broadly. "Normally, I make girls wait until the second date."

Jim snorted at the blatant inaccuracy of his statement. "I have never known you to willingly forgo a show of skin."

"You may have a point there, Jimmy." Fully dressed, Gary threw his wet towel at Jim, who reflexively batted it away. "So, what's the plan for tomorrow?"

"Spock's coming here at ten—"

"Ooh, a date?" Gary interjected.

"...And we'll work on setting up some kind of surveillance camera for our room." Jim concluded, ignoring Gary's comment.

"We'd better hope Walsh _does_ give it another try, given the amount of work that's going into this."

"He will." Jim's voice sounded a lot more confident than he felt. 

"So... this camera business..." Gary's voice had the tone it always had when he was trying to influence Jim in one way or another. "Is that something you need me to help you out with?"

He was so predictable. Jim rolled his eyes towards the ceiling, but couldn't quite hide his smile. "Let me guess: you have a date with Sarah."

"Jessica," Gary corrected him, doing a very good impression of pleading puppy-dog eyes. 

Jim felt a momentary pang of nerves at the thought of being alone with Spock, but quickly dismissed the idea as ridiculous. "Keep your date. If I know you, the alternative is you whining about what you're missing out on every five minutes."

Gary looked horrified. "Whining? I don't whine!"

Jim just looked at him, eyebrows raised, until Gary grinned sheepishly and looked away. 

"If we manage to get things set up," Jim said, turning the conversation back to the plan, "we'll have to work out a way to prompt Walsh to act again."

"Easy." Stretching out on his bed, Gary rolled over onto his side so that he was facing Jim. "Let him know that we're not going to be in our room all day and he'll be an idiot if he doesn't take advantage of our timely absence."

"He's an idiot anyway," Jim said mildly. "Any brilliant inspiration regarding _why_ we'll be gone for the day?" he went on. "Walsh knows we don't usually go off-campus on weekends.

Gary thought for a minute, his eyes distant, before speaking again. "I think it's about time Sam came to town for a visit."

Jim grinned. "You're a genius."

Gary feigned modesty, but the charade didn't last for long. "Naturally."

"Walsh won't know that Sam's off-planet at the moment and it's too plausible for him to even question it. The only difficulty will be engineering a way to casually bump into him again so we can tell him about it."

"I have a solution to _that_ little dilemma as well," Gary said, looking rather proud of himself. "I'm pretty sure that he and Jessica share a few classes. I'll just ask her to check a homework assignment with him, or something along those lines. _Without_ telling her the full story," he added, anticipating Jim's next comment.

"See," Jim said fondly, smiling over at him. "I couldn't possibly replace you. You're far too useful."

Gary rolled his eyes and made a show of looking offended but, when he eventually returned Jim's smile, his face lit up with an emotion that Jim was pretty sure was relief.


	7. Chapter 7

Although he never would have admitted it, Jim was a nervous mess by the time that Spock was due to arrive the following day. Gary had left at a quarter to ten, looking for all the world like he had just rolled out of bed and left, despite the half hour that he had spent in the bathroom. (He assured Jim that it drove the girls wild, but Jim had certainly never struggled to get a date with neatly combed hair.) Before leaving, he had made several suggestive comments that had _not_ helped Jim's anxiety at all, and then had assured Jim that he was more than smart enough to keep up with Spock, which only made things exponentially worse.

It was that question that was really bothering Jim. He never liked to perform at any level short of perfection, and the thought of messing up in front of Spock — who would definitely _know_ that he had messed up — was particularly unpleasant. He was not entirely sure _why_ he felt like that; perhaps it was his competitive nature responding to his awareness that Spock was among the handful of people at the Academy who were capable of beating him academically.

Jim had prepared for Spock's arrival by digging out all of the bits and pieces of technology that he and Gary had ferreted about their quarters. While Jim had a few basic electronic elements left over from past projects — both official and recreational — he knew that they wouldn't come near to sufficing for his and Spock's likely requirements. If they were to construct a surveillance system as sophisticated as they would need, it was likely that Jim would have to cannibalise parts from other objects.

Everything that he had found was now spread carelessly across his bed, with a few items overflowing onto the surrounding floor. The desk, however, had been cleared of everything but the desktop monitor, providing space for him and Spock to work.

Jim had already been playing around with a few possibilities while he had been waiting for it to be time for Spock to arrive. He had a feeling that he was on the right track, but he wanted to double-check his reasoning with Spock before pulling anything apart to test his theory. The more he worked, however, the more confident he felt that, between the two of them, they'd be able to construct the surveillance elements that they needed.

Spock arrived at ten AM precisely — or, at least, that was when he knocked at the door to Jim and Gary's quarters. His uniform was, of course, immaculate, despite the fact that the Academy was significantly more lenient about uniform infringements on weekends. His presentation made Jim looked rather like a vagrant in comparison, casually dressed as he was in preparation for the work they were about to do.

As if reading Jim's mind, Spock looked him up and down in greeting, one brow rising as though questioning Jim's choice of attire. Feeling subconscious all of a sudden, Jim had an unusual urge to explain himself.

"I thought we might get a bit dusty," he said, ushering Spock inside. "I'll worry about uniform if we end up needing to go anywhere."

Spock nodded. "Sound logic."

Jim was pretty sure that was high praise, coming from a Vulcan. "I dug out as many components as I could find," he said, and gestured towards his bed. "If we need anything else, I'll work out a way to get my hands on it."

"Unlikely." Spock shrugged an overstuffed bag down from one shoulder. "I believe I have most of what we need here."

Jim grinned at him, feeling mildly victorious when Spock's eyes softened a little in response. "We make a great team."

Spock didn't reply, but there was something about the set of his shoulders that made Jim inclined to think he agreed. 

It was funny how quickly he had learned to interpret the subtle differences in Spock's appearance, Jim mused, as they began organising the parts on Jim's bed into functional piles. At first, he had just taken for granted the assumption that Vulcans were as characterless as they were supposedly emotionless. Now, however, he was beginning to question both beliefs. Although they were barely perceptible, the indications were definitely there. Jim was only just beginning to understand Spock's non-verbal clues, but he had a feeling that he could become quite fluent with time.

Frowning, he shot a quick glance at Spock out of the corner of his eye. He might become fluent if he had the chance to do so, but there was no reason to believe that would be the case. For all Jim knew, he and Spock would go back to being strangers again once this affair was concluded for better or for worse. For some reason, the thought bothered him.

Suddenly determined to make the most of their time together, although he couldn't quite explain why, Jim looked up from the lens he was examining. "So, why are you here?"

Spock looked strangely at him. "You asked me to join you here."

Jim laughed. "I meant here as in the Academy. What makes a Vulcan decide to join Starfleet?"

"It seemed... like an interesting challenge."

"What, the coursework, or the difficulty of living surrounded by humans?" Jim teased him.

"The experience in its entirety."

Jim wasn't going to let him get away with that kind of non-answer, however. "I bet we all drive you completely bonkers a lot of the time."

Spock picked up a data chip to examine, focussing on it as he replied. "Your actions are occasionally perplexing," he admitted. "The Human nature is not entirely unfamiliar to me, however"

"Why's that?" Jim asked, interested. "I suppose you would have studied us in school, just like _we_ study the non-Human races."

"Affirmative. In addition, my father was an Ambassador to Earth." Looking up from the chip, Spock regarded Jim for a long moment before speaking again. "Most of my familiarity, however, stems from the fact that my mother is Human."

Jim stared at him. At first, he thought that Spock was having him on, but then he realised just how unlikely that was. "I had no idea," he said eventually.

"It is not common knowledge."

"I won't tell anyone."

Something flickered in Spock's eyes for a brief moment. "I know."

Jim's lips parted in a broad smile. He made a gallant attempt to keep his hands to himself, only to forget seconds later, resting a hand lightly on Spock's shoulder as he reached past him to scoop a coil of wire up from the bed's surface. Spock stiffened slightly, but did not flinch from his touch, and if Jim left his hand there a few seconds longer than he should have, it certainly wasn't because he was struggling to draw away.

For a while, they worked in near-silence, occasionally breaking the quiet to discuss the project at hand. Jim was pleased to receive confirmation from Spock that his ideas should prove effective, and he enjoyed working with someone whose skills were almost comparable to his in some areas, and far superior in others. Spock's knowledge of computers was quite astounding — especially for someone known for his achievements in science — and it was he who suggested that they should link the cameras in Jim's quarters to the desk monitor in his own, allowing Spock to observe any attempt by Walsh to act again as it actually occurred.

"But that means you'll be stuck in your quarters all day tomorrow," Jim protested.

"I have an assignment to complete. I would have spent most of the day there regardless."

Jim had a feeling that Spock would never admit it, even if he _had_ been going to stay in his quarters entirely for the sake of their plan. Unsure as to how he should react to Spock's unfailing assistance, Jim resorted to his usual fallback: humour.

"No hot dates tomorrow, then?" he asked, grinning mischievously at Spock.

"No dates — hot or otherwise." Jim was fairly certain that that particular twitch of the brows indicated amusement.

"I guess it makes things difficult, being stuck on a planet full of Humans," Jim teased him self-effacingly.

Spock took a while to reply, his long fingers deftly twisting wires and locking components into place. When he finally spoke, his face was expressionless once more, although he met and held Jim's gaze. "It makes things _very_ difficult at times."

Jim continued to watch Spock long after the Vulcan returned his gaze to his work.

*

By lunchtime, their combined efforts were beginning to take shape, the previous mess of components on Jim's bed having more than halved, replaced as they were by a cluster of near-finished items on the desk. None of them were at all aesthetically pleasing, but Jim was pretty sure that they'd do the job for which they were intended, which was the thing that really mattered.

Spock had tried to continue without pausing for lunch, but Jim was having none of that, instead forcing Spock to put his programming to one side so that he could accompany Jim to the dining hall. He had been tempted to tease Spock for the overly-quick way that he had averted his eyes when Jim had pulled off his tee shirt in order to change into his Academy uniform, but something had held him back for calling Spock out on his prudishness. After all, for all Jim knew, he might have committed some kind of Vulcan cardinal sin by stripping off in the first place. Sure, Spock hadn't even blinked at Gary's display the previous evening, but it was probably different when the offender remained safely on the other side of a monitor screen.

Once appropriately dressed, Jim led the way to the dining hall, and self-righteously avoided making any disparaging comments about the salad that Spock loaded onto his tray. It was only when they were seated at Spock's usual table that a thought occurred to Jim.

"You don't mind me eating meat around you, do you?" he asked, his fork pausing midway between his plate and his mouth. "I didn't even think."

"The smell can be a little off-putting at times," Spock admitted, his tone warm. Obviously he had decided to forgive Jim for his earlier faux pas — if, indeed, that was what had taken place. "I am well used to it, however."

"I'll try not to breathe in your face."

"That... would be preferable." Spock watched, seemingly bemused, as Jim made a show of eating carefully and breathing in the opposite direction. 

The dining hall was always a little less crowded on weekends, which allowed Jim and Spock considerably more privacy than they would have been able to manage during a busy weeknight meal. They ate in silence for a while, but it had changed to a comfortable quiet, without any of the awkwardness of the previous days. 

The insipid taste of Jim's meatloaf gave him cause to see the mound of greenery on Spock's plate in a slightly more positive light. Indeed, there was a greater than usual air of smugness about Spock as Jim raised his fork to eye level for the third time, examining his meal for any sign of meat. 

Spock ate as Jim would have expected him to: neatly and methodically. He tackled each element of his salad in turn. First, the tomatoes. Second, the lettuce. Third... some kind of green and squishy vegetable that Jim couldn't identify. Only a man with exceedingly deficient taste buds could eat the Academy food with pleasure, but Jim had a feeling that Spock would _never_ eat for the sake of it, instead caring only about nutritional values and logical choices. It made Jim want to try to persuade Spock to eat the gooiest, most unhealthy cake he could get his hands on, despite knowing that such a plan was almost definitely destined for failure. 

Once Jim had eaten enough to quiet his stomach, he pushed aside his tray and turned to watch Spock for a while before speaking. "Thank you."

Spock raised his gaze to meet Jim's own, his eyes questioning.

"Thanks for helping me out like this," Jim clarified. "I know you consider it your moral responsibility or whatever, but most people wouldn't do all this for a stranger."

"You are not a stranger now, Jim," Spock said simply.

A slow smile grew on Jim's face. "Logical, as always."

Spock just nodded.

"Does that mean..." Jim's voice trailed off. He was unsure as to how best to phrase his question — and more than a little perplexed by the fact that Spock's eventual response meant so much. "After this is over," he began a second time, "it would be nice if we didn't go back to being strangers again."

Spock did not look at Jim when he replied. "I agree."

Jim's smile stretched into a broad grin. He nudged Spock lightly with one shoulder, amazed, as always, by the amount of heat that emanated from the Vulcan's body. "You'll probably live to regret that."

Spock lifted his head to meet Jim's eyes. "Most probably."

"See, you _do_ have a sense of humour," Jim said lightly, holding Spock's gaze until he had to look away.

*

Jim had imagined that Spock's quarters would be stark and characterless. He had pictured perfectly ordered bookshelves and bed covers as smooth and crease-free as a lake on a windless day. Instead, the room reflected Spock's character in more ways than Jim would previously have believed. A Vulcan fire pot rested on the floor facing the doorway — Jim recognised it from his first year classes, although he wasn't sure how Spock had managed to convince the Academy that it wasn't a fire hazard — and his bed was not so much immaculate as it was covered in multi-coloured data cards. The bookshelves alone were in keeping with Jim's preconceptions: two shelves of unfeasibly neat texts and PADDs, and one containing a well-organised collection of cards and scientific instruments.

"I like your... pot," Jim said weakly, feeling as though he had to say _something_ complimentary in response to having been granted access to Spock's quarters.

Spock raised an eyebrow in a silent response, moving over to sit in front of his desktop monitor and motioning for Jim to join him. Jim did as he was told, leaning over the back of Spock's chair so that he might see the screen a little more clearly, one hand resting on the chair's arm, and the other on the back of the seat, bare inches away from Spock's neck. A light smokiness filled Jim's nostrils and he wasn't sure whether the lingering hint of fire clung to the air of the room or to Spock himself.

"If our work has been successful, it will only take a few moments to complete things here," Spock said, switching on the monitor and entering and ejecting three data cards in quick succession.

Jim watched Spock's fingers as he worked. "Without your help, this would be so much less sophisticated."

Spock turned to look up at Jim, his face unnervingly close to Jim's own. "We are yet to confirm that it works."

Jim smiled weakly. "It will."

"It is highly probable, yes."

Turning back to the screen, Spock pressed a few more buttons and slid in a final data card. There was a long pause, during which the monitor flickered between black and stark white, and then four divided images of Jim and Gary's quarters filled the screen.

"It works!" Jim squeezed Spock's shoulder briefly in celebration, quickly drawing his hand away when Spock stiffened as expected.

They had managed to secrete cameras in three different places in the bedroom, with a solitary camera providing footage of the adjoining bathroom. The latter was the least effective of all the cameras, providing an awkward, although complete, view of the room, but they had agreed that the likelihood of Walsh placing anything in the bathroom was slim. The other cameras were surprisingly efficient, showing the room from three separate viewpoints and thus ensuring that there was no angle at which Walsh would be able to conceal his appearance or his actions.

"If he tries again, we'll have him." Jim leaned in a little closer to the screen, fascinated by the images he was seeing. It was strange to be viewing his quarters in such a manner. Everything was so familiar, and yet so alien at the same time. "You know, if Gary brings his new girl back to the room, we're going to get an awful surprise..."

Spock spun around in his chair to regard Jim with eyebrows raised. "Is that likely?"

"You never know with Gary." Without anything to lean on any more, Jim felt a little foolish standing so close to Spock's chair. Not thinking to ask permission, he moved over to sit on Spock's bed, clearing a space before doing so. "He'll probably be expecting us to be working in there all day, so we should be relatively safe."

To Jim's surprise, Spock raised himself out of his chair, tidying the collection of data cards on the bed into two neat piles, and then taking a seat beside Jim after he had turned off the desktop monitor.

"I will, of course, only view the camera feeds tomorrow once I am sure that you and Ensign Mitchell have left your quarters."

"Gary will be very disappointed." Jim smiled. "I think he'd quite like the idea of you watching him in the shower."

Spock's eyebrows twitched a little. "It would not be appropriate."

"Appropriate is not a guideline that Gary often cares to follow." Noticing that Spock was beginning to look a little uncomfortable, Jim hastened to give him what he hoped was a reassuring grin. "Don't worry, Spock. I'll make sure that Gary behaves himself — not that you'll see anything anyway, if you keep your monitor turned off for the rest of the day."

Spock picked a yellow card out of one of the piles and proceeded to concentrate intensely on its surface as he spoke. "It may be necessary to briefly view the feeds once you return to your room," he said. "We need to be certain that Ensign Walsh will be able to be identified from the footage."

Jim threw Spock a mischievous look. "I'm starting to think you _want_ to see Gary in the shower."

For someone who wasn't supposed to feel any emotion, Spock was doing a pretty good job of looking disgruntled. "I assure you that is not the case."

Without thinking, Jim scooted a little closer to Spock, patting his arm patronisingly. "I'm just teasing you," he said mildly. If he hadn't known better, he'd have been sure that Spock had actually moved _into_ his touch this time, rather than pulling away. Disconcerted, he frowned slightly as he went on. "I know you're not the type to take advantage of something like this." 

Spock remained silent, his expression unreadable.

"These days, I'm used to being around Gary most of the time," Jim continued, as much in apology as in explanation. "Sometimes I forget that not everyone thinks the way that we do."

The statement obviously intrigued Spock. "How _do_ you think?"

Feeling a little like he was being observed in the pursuit of some kind of inter-race research, Jim tried to work out how to put his thoughts into words. "I spent too much time taking the world far too seriously. These days, I try to _live_ life — and part of that comes from the ability to laugh at it, no matter how bad things might get." He looked at Spock a little sheepishly. "I don't suppose Vulcans ever do that. Laugh, I mean."

"It is possible." Something in Spock's tone made Jim feel as though he were being told something that not everyone was allowed to know. The more he learned about Spock, the more he began to believe that Vulcans were extremely fond of encouraging other races to see them as being less interesting than they really were. "It is... not considered desirable," Spock finished.

Jim tried to imagine Spock laughing and was not at all surprised when he found that he couldn't. "Is it harder for you? Because of your mother?"

"When I was very young, I chose to follow the Vulcan ways." Spock's eyes were distant as he spoke. "It is not a matter of difficult or simple; one either succeeds, or one fails."

Jim didn't even try to pretend that he understood what it must be like to live life under the burden of having to remain in constant control. He knew, however, that regardless of what Spock might say, it couldn't be easy. He couldn't see himself ever making a choice to live life in such a way — but then; perhaps it was different for a Vulcan, even if that Vulcan was partially Human as well.

"Better you than me," he said softly.

They fell into companionable silence as Jim thought over what Spock had revealed and Spock ran through scientific equations in his head, or whatever it was that usually went on inside his mind. As the minutes passed, however, Jim's thoughts began to drift and his awareness of Spock's closeness grew more and more insistent. Although there was a comfortable foot between them, Jim was positive that he could feel warmth emanating from Spock's body, although logically it must only have been the heat of the room itself. After a while, he began to feel as though the temperature of the room was having a peculiar effect on him, his senses seeming to heighten... and all of them shoutingly aware of the presence of Spock at his side.

It was no surprise, therefore, when Jim reacted as he always did to a particularly tense situation, resorting to humour as he said the first thing that popped into his head.

"So, have you ever done it on film?" The moment the words left his mouth, Jim closed his eyes in frustration at his own stupidity, wishing that there were a way he could take them back. "Shit, sorry. Ignore me."

If he hadn't been too busy cringing at the idiocy of his question, Jim would probably have been delighted by the reaction it provoked. Spock's head snapped towards Jim, his eyes wide with something that could only be interpreted as shock.

As Spock struggled to answer, Jim was amazed to see a pale flush of green colour his cheeks and highlight the tips of his ears. "That... would be illogical," he said finally.

Unthinking, Jim reached up to lightly press fingers to Spock's cheek. "Green blood," he said softly.

Surprisingly, Spock allowed the touch. "I hope you have no plans to that end," he said, visibly regaining his usual measure of control. "I doubt the Academy would appreciate viewing the resulting footage."

"No, of course not. Although..." An image of Spock, flushing green with something more primal than embarrassment, filled Jim's mind without warning. Flustered, he pushed the thought firmly to one side. "No. Definitely not."

Spock's eyebrow rose towards his hairline.

"Sorry. I just..." Still flustered, Jim shrugged as he struggled to find the words. "You... I was nervous."

Spock reached up and gently removed Jim's fingers from where they were still resting upon his cheekbone. "I understand," he said quietly, holding Jim's hand in his own for a little longer than was necessary, his touch hot and dizzying. "You confuse me too."

*

"If you and Spock ever end up on a ship together, I pity any hostile planets you might encounter," Gary said that evening, as he examined Jim and Spock's work. "You're brilliant enough on your own, but together you're freakish."

Jim laughed, watching him from his place on his bed. "Thanks... I think."

"Of course, then I'd be stuck looking at his disapproving face every day," Gary went on, "because there's no way in hell that you're getting away from me."

"I remember," Jim said fondly. "First Officer, no less."

"You'll need _someone_ to keep an eye on you." Gary grinned. "If I know you, the moment you're given your own ship, you'll try to go all grim again. You'll need me there to force you to lighten up a bit."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Bemused, Jim watched as Gary leant in so that his nose was a fraction of an inch away from hitting the camera that was hidden amongst Jim's books. "Is he watching us now?"

Jim shook his head as Gary turned to look at him. "No. He had it on for a while after I came back, in case we had to fine tune anything, but it doesn't need to be turned back on now until you and I leave tomorrow."

"So he was just... watching you hang out in here?" Gary asked, his eyebrows raised so high that it looked like they were about to break free of his forehead. "That's a bit creepy, Jim."

"It's nothing of the sort."

"But what if you'd needed to shower?"

"I didn't."

Gary grinned slyly. "Perhaps you should have. It would have given him something to think about."

"Gary!"

Gary just shook his head at Jim's protestations. "I don't know why you're so set on denying it." Getting to his feet, he patted Jim on the back as he passed him, and then dropped into the chair that sat in front of their desk. "I _know_ you, James Kirk. I think you have really fucking _weird_ taste, but we all have our faults."

"Do you have a point, or are you content just to insult me?"

"My _point_ ," Gary said firmly, "is that I can't see a Vulcan ever making the first move."

Knowing when there was no point in trying to protest, Jim didn't bother attempting to convince Gary that he was mistaken about his interest in Spock. "It's not going to happen, Gary."

"Why not?" Gary demanded. "He almost jumps right out of his skin whenever you get too close."

Jim laughed. "That's not usually a _good_ thing, you know."

"I'd be willing to bet it is if it's a Vulcan you're dealing with. God, all that pent-up passion and emotion," he went on, grinning mischievously. "That's got to be a recipe for fireworks."

Jim glared at him. "Don't."

"What? Don't go there? Jealous, are you?" As much as Jim loved Gary, there were times when he could quite happily have throttled him. It was one of those times. "Don't worry, Jim. I keep it to the female of the Human species." He paused. "Okay, I'd make an exception for one of those green Orion girls. They're kind of hot."

Sighing dramatically, Jim rolled over onto his back so that he was staring up at the ceiling. Gary _did_ know him all too well, and he also knew Gary — well enough to realise that he wasn't going to get any peace that evening without giving his friend at least an approximation of what he wanted to hear.

"Spock is... intriguing," he began, his mind quickly filling in a jumble of additional adjectives: maddening, fascinating, complicated, attractive — and, most of all, impossible. "I enjoy spending time with him. Which is why there will be no moves made."

"See, that's why you should stick to Humans," Gary said lightly. "Well, that and the fact that most aliens are so ugly that you'd need to be _really_ desperate to go there."

"I'm sure you'll reach that point eventually."

With a playful roar, Gary launched himself off his chair and onto Jim's bed, half crushing Jim in the process. Glad for the physical outlet, Jim wrestled with his friend for a few minutes before victoriously pushing Gary halfway off the bed.

"So, everything's up and running then?" Gary asked out of the blue, reaching for Jim's hand in order to clamber fully back onto the bed. "We're all set for tomorrow?"

"We should be, provided everything continues to work as well as it did today. I gave Spock my access codes," Jim admitted. "That way, if the picture drops out for some reason, he can get in here to try to fix it."

"I'm surprised he let you," Gary said, apparently otherwise unmoved by Jim's revelation. "I didn't think Vulcans were _capable_ of breaking rules."

Jim had a feeling that Spock's human side probably allowed him to do a lot of things that he might otherwise struggle with, but he couldn't tell Gary that. "Spock's... not your average Vulcan," he said instead.

"No need to get all soppy on me, Jimmy!"

Jim gave him a well-deserved clout on the arm.

Gary feigned offence for all of five seconds before brightly returning to the topic at hand. "So, _anyway_ ," he said, as though it had been Jim who had continuously dragged their conversation off topic, "Jessica played her part brilliantly today. She actually _had_ missed a class this week, so she was perfectly convincing when she bugged Walsh for the homework. As for me, I should be an actor, the way I slipped it into the conversation that we were heading off to see Sam tomorrow. 'Did you ever meet Jim's brother Sam?' I asked him, as innocent as can be. 'He's in town at the moment; did you know?' You should have seen his eyes light up when I said we'd be gone all day."

"Perhaps we should have just made it the morning," Jim mused. "I hope Spock isn't stuck watching that screen all day."

"He'll live," Gary said, rolling his eyes. "Meanwhile, your best friend is in dire need of praise for his magnificent efforts this afternoon.

Jim patted him on the head like an obedient dog. "Good boy. Well done."

"I bet you don't speak to _Spock_ like that," Gary said mournfully.

"I've never had cause to."

"You've only known the guy two days. Give it time." Gary grinned devilishly and poked Jim in the arm. "Hey, that reminds me. Once this is all over, I've volunteered you for a double date with Jessica's best friend."

For some reason, the thought twisted Jim's stomach unpleasantly. "I think that's probably a very good idea."

"I thought so too." Gary squeezed Jim's arm, as though for moral support.

Even through the fabric of Jim's sleeve, Gary's fingers felt far too cool.


	8. Chapter 8

With Sam off-world and light years away, Jim and Gary were left to fill in their time away from the Academy campus on their own. The previous day, Jim had arranged for Spock to contact him if Walsh should fall for their trap, which meant that there was no need for Jim or Gary to check in with him on a regular basis. For the sake of logics, however, they had decided that it was best that they stay as close as possible to the Academy all the same.

And so they found themselves, late morning, in a small café a few blocks from the Academy's boundaries, surrounded by a clientele that seemed to consist almost entirely of their fellow students. While it rather defeated the general purpose of getting away from the Academy to choose to spend time in the company of the same silver-clad clusters of midshipmen that one could find anywhere on campus, the anonymity provided by the crowd was actually well suited to Jim and Gary, who had been worried all morning that somehow they'd be seen without Sam, possibly throwing their entire plan into doubt.

Gary was waiting in line at the counter to order a second coffee for Jim and a piece of cake for himself when Spock's message came through. All interest in caffeine forgotten, Jim pulled Gary out of line with two quiet words. "It worked."

* 

Spock met them inside the main Academy gates, carrying a small black bag slung over one shoulder. He nodded briskly at Gary, before turning to look at Jim with considerably more warmth in his eyes. A grin grew on Jim's face, unbidden, and was rewarded by an almost imperceptible crinkling at the corners of Spock's eyes.

"I have taken the liberty of arranging an appointment with Rear Admiral Duncan," Spock said, gesturing for Jim and Gary to walk with him as he spoke. "I thought it best that I should accompany you in order to bear witness to what I observed, in case he does not consider the footage evidence enough."

"Thanks, Spock." Jim bumped lightly against him as they walked. "You're a real friend."

Spock stiffened, actually halting for a brief moment before resuming his usual, straight-backed gait. "I am merely doing what is right."

They were back to that again, were they? Jim wasn't quite sure what he could have said to offend Spock, but there wasn't any point in asking for an explanation, especially in Gary's presence. Instead, he pointedly moved a little further away from Spock, to prevent any further accidental — or not so accidental — contact from taking place.

"Walsh acted just as we had hoped," Spock went on. "I cannot see how you could fail to clear your name once the Rear Admiral has viewed the footage."

Spock patted the bag at his side, somehow closing the gap between him and Jim once more in the process of doing so. If anything, they were even closer now, Spock's arm occasionally brushing against Jim's own as they walked, sending a rush of tension and excitement through Jim's body every time it occurred. Once, their fingers made contact for a brief, intoxicating moment, before Jim snatched his hand away in the guise of brushing a strand of hair from his face.

It suddenly struck Jim that his and Spock's behaviour felt like a kind of strange, middle school courtship. He was starting to think that Gary might be right — that perhaps Spock was just as perplexed and conflicted as he was himself. Certainly, Jim had not imagined Spock's flustered embarrassment the previous day, nor the gentle way he had encircled Jim's fingers within his own, but he was also unable to deny the sheer impossibility of things ever progressing further than they had. As it was, Jim got the impression that Spock was stretched to the very limits, a theory that was supported by the evident tension that showed in the Vulcan's jawline when Jim turned to look his way.

"What happened?" Jim asked, largely to take his mind off its previous train of thought.

"He entered your quarters at precisely six point two seven minutes past eleven hundred hours," Spock began.

"How about you give us the condensed version," Gary butted in, giving Spock an exasperated look. "Save the computer speak for Duncan."

Spock looked mildly offended from Jim's point of view, but he continued on without directly acknowledging Gary's comment. "I believe he had pre-planned his actions, as he did not hesitate once inside the room. The offending material will be found beneath your mattress."

Jim laughed. "That's a bit of a cliché."

"I hope he didn't steal all of your porn, Jim!" Gary said, turning to give him a mischievous grin.

The line of Spock's eyebrow was almost vertical as he looked at Jim.

"It's a joke, Spock," Jim explained quickly. "It's a Human stereotype that teenage boys keep a stash of porn under their mattresses, so that their mothers won't find it when tiding their room. It doesn't really hold true for life at the Academy."

"Most peculiar."

"Yeah, I guess you guys wouldn't consider porn very _logical_ ," Gary mused. "Hey, do you—"

Jim swiftly reached out and grabbed his friend's arm. "No, Gary," he said firmly, and then, "Shut _up_ , Gary," when Gary opened his mouth as though to continue the question.

"You're no fun, Jimmy."

"That's kind of the point."

As they talked, they had made their way over to the main Administration building. Gary came to a halt outside the double doors that marked its entrance and Jim and Spock, walking a pace behind him, followed suit.

"Do you think we should all go in?" Gary asked. "Let's face it, I didn't do very much."

"You were party to the plan. I see no reason why you should not be there."

Jim threw Spock a pleased look. He had been expecting Spock to dismiss Gary's efforts but, once again, the Vulcan had managed to surprise him. "Spock's right, Gary. Of course you should come in with us." Stepping forward, he slung an arm loosely around Gary's shoulders. "Besides, I need you there for moral support."

"I'm sure Spock could hold your hand for you if you need it," Gary said slyly, grinning over at Spock.

Jim's arm tightened a little around Gary's neck. "I don't think that will be necessary," he said, trying to keep his tone light.

If Spock understood the entirety of Gary's implication, he did not let on about it. "Our appointment is in five minutes. I believe we will make a better impression if we do not arrive late."

"Yes, sir!" Pulling open the closest door, Gary saluted Spock before heading inside.

Jim and Spock exchanged a bemused glance as Jim caught the still-swinging door and held it open for Spock.

"Good luck," Spock said, holding Jim's gaze for a few seconds before passing him and walking into the building.

Jim paused for a moment to catch his breath, his heart beating an erratic rhythm in his chest. "Thank you," he said quietly, although Spock was already too far away to hear.

*

Rear Admiral Duncan listened without comment as Jim and Spock related their respective accounts of the events of the past few days, beginning with Jim's original meeting with Duncan and the conversation that Spock had overheard, and finishing with the presentation of the data card containing the footage that Spock had witnessed that morning. Gary mostly remained quiet, except for interjecting an occasional fact that he had remembered, but he also provided a brief summary of the conversation that he and Jessica had engaged Walsh in on the previous day.

The expression on Duncan's pale face grew ever more serious as their narrative progressed. As soon as he received the card, he inserted it into his desktop monitor, his eyes darkening as he watched the events unfold on the screen.

"Visual footage can, of course, be tampered with," he said finally, once the scene had played out and the monitor's screen had reverted to solid black. 

"Indeed," Spock agreed. "However, you will find the offending material — whatever it should be — in Lieutenant Kirk's quarters, and general security footage should reveal that Ensign Walsh was in the building at the time in question."

"And if you search _his_ room," Gary added, "you'll probably find the doohickey he used to crack our access codes."

Jim turned to face him, his brows raised and a slight smile of bemusement quirking his lips. "Doohickey?"

"Hey, you guys have your technical stuff. I have my star charts and planets. There's no need for our worlds to collide."

Duncan cleared his throat and Jim and Gary sheepishly returned their attention to him and the matter at hand.

"Obviously, we will need to further investigate the information that you've brought to my attention today," Duncan began, looking at Jim. "However, if everything checks out, it is unlikely that you will still be required to attend a disciplinary hearing regarding this matter."

Jim grinned. "Fantastic."

"I must stress that—" Whatever Duncan had been about to say was cut off by a piercing beep from his monitor. "Excuse me a moment," he said, frowning.

From where he was sitting, Jim could not see the screen, but the sound was perfectly clear. "Sorry to interrupt you, Rear Admiral, but we've received a message from an anonymous source, making another accusation against Lieutenant Kirk."

Duncan's mouth tightened. "Trace it," he ordered, "and if it originated anywhere on campus, I want the security records showing all students and staff in the vicinity."

"Sir!"

Duncan turned off the monitor, and then spun in his chair so that he was facing Jim once more. "It seems things are happening as you predicted."

"Do you think you'll be able to trace the message?"

"It's unlikely," Duncan admitted. "I think it's fair to assume that anyone capable of circumventing Academy security procedures will take care to ensure that their anonymity is preserved."

"So, what now?" Gary asked, adding a "sir" to the question as an afterthought.

"No more taking things into your own hands," Duncan said firmly. "While your initiative is commendable, you need to trust in Starfleet Academy's values and procedures. I assure you that we will discover the truth."

Gary looked dubious, but Jim nodded. Duncan was right. He was at the Academy because he respected Starfleet and believed in their visions and objectives. Surely the same standards had to apply to his own interactions with the hierarchy, and not just Starfleet's interactions with external elements.

"Thank you, sir," he said, resolving to leave any further investigations to the Academy — at least until it became clear that further meddling was required.

Standing, Duncan indicated that their discussion was over. "You will be contacted if there are any further developments," he said to Jim.

Jim took his cue, standing and nodding once at Rear Admiral Duncan before moving over to the door, with Spock and Gary following closely behind him. Gary slid through the door ahead of them, visibly anxious not to prolong his time in the Rear Admiral's office any longer than necessary. Spock, however, waited for Jim to leave before doing so, carefully closing the door behind him.

"That went well... I think," Jim said once they were safely out in the corridor.

Spock inclined his head slightly. "It would appear so."

"We should do something to celebrate," Gary said suddenly. "There's a great place I know on the other side of town..."

"Spock?" Jim asked, turning to regard him with his eyebrows raised.

Spock shook his head. "I have homework to complete."

Jim felt a sharp pang of disappointment, but covered it with a smile. "Don't we all?" he said, a little too lightly.

As if aware of Jim's feelings, Spock spoke again. "If you are not otherwise occupied, I will be available tomorrow if you would like me to assist you to dismantle the surveillance system after class."

Jim's forced smile grew into a genuine grin. "That would be great."

"I shall see you tomorrow afternoon, then," Spock said briskly, holding Jim's gaze for a few seconds before moving away.

"What about dinner tonight?" Jim asked, but Spock was already gone.

"Just a hint, Jimmy, but generally it's more effective if you ask them out when they're in the same room as you."

Jim gave him an exasperated look. "I meant dinner in the dining hall, Gary. That's hardly the place for a hot date."

"You have no imagination. But, then again, neither does the Vulcan, so you're probably a good match. Now, come on," he continued quickly, before Jim could protest, "There's no point in going back to our room, because it's probably crawling with Academy security right now. Let's make the most of the remainder of our weekend."

Jim thought only briefly before agreeing. "Fine. But we're _not_ going to Benny's. Wait until I'm out of this lot of trouble before you try to get me into any more."

"You're no fun," Gary grumbled, but there was a spring in his step as they headed towards the door.

Shaking his head, Jim couldn't help but smile. Resolving to enjoy their afternoon away from the Academy as much as possible, he pushed all thoughts of Spock from his mind and ushered Gary outside.


	9. Chapter 9

"And so now it's Walsh facing a disciplinary hearing and not me!" Jim finished.

Spock had been listening in silence as Jim had recounted the conversation that he had held with Rear Admiral Duncan an hour earlier, showing no sign that he was even taking in Jim's words, apart from the occasional nod. Now, however, he finally spoke. "I am pleased for you."

His mood so buoyant that not even Spock's talent for understatement could bring it down, Jim laughed. "Does pleasure count as an emotion?" he teased. "Should I report you to the Vulcan board of regulation?"

"It is merely a turn of phrase," Spock said stiffly. "I could, just as easily, have said that I believed the result to be fair. And there is no such thing as a Vulcan board of regulation," he added, as if it were an afterthought.

"Perhaps there should be. I think they'd have a lot to say about your blatant abuse of eyebrow waggling."

As if on cue, Spock's right brow shot upward. "Waggling?" he repeated.

Jim nodded. "Waggling."

Spock shook his head. "You are—"

"Most illogical?" Jim jumped in, grinning broadly.

"Actually, I was going to say that you are obviously happy with the outcome of the investigation."

Jim didn't believe a word of it, but chose to let it slide. "Happy? I'm ecstatic!"

Rear Admiral Duncan had contacted Jim straight after his final class of the day, and had informed him that all of the accusations that had been made against him had officially been dismissed by the Academy. For all his careful orchestrations, Walsh had apparently not expected to be investigated himself, as evidenced by the fact that the Academy security search of his quarters had found ample material to clear Jim's name. Jim had felt a momentary pang of sadness for Lisa's sake, but had quickly dismissed his reservations. If this was what it took to have her realise that Walsh was not the man he pretended to be, then perhaps a little pain was worth it.

There had been no apology by Rear Admiral Duncan on behalf of the Academy, of course. Jim had not really been expecting one. After all, the evidence _had_ been stacked against him. It just made Jim all the more grateful that Gary — and even Spock — had believed in his innocence without question. The knowledge that his name had been cleared was so much sweeter when he had friends to share it with.

Smiling slightly, Jim looked across at Spock, who would, most likely, be horrified by the suggestion that he might be implicated in something as unavoidably Human as friendship was. Jim wouldn't have believed his protests, of course. He chose, instead, to trust in the obvious warmth in Spock's eyes as he met Jim's gaze.

"It's a bit weird thinking that everything's going to go back to normal now." Jim stretched, and then allowed his body to fall backwards onto the bed, his legs still dangling over one side. "I've practically been _breathing_ this stuff over the past few days."

"I would have thought you might be pleased for things to go back to normal."

"It wasn't _all_ bad, you know." Jim yawned before dragging his body into a relatively upright position. He was suddenly so tired now that everything was resolved, a testament to the fact that he'd not slept well in days. It didn't help that Spock, sitting straight-backed in Jim's chair, looked as alert and refreshed as if he had just awoken after sleeping for a week. "It's been good getting to know you," he ventured. 

Spock just _looked_ at Jim for what felt like a full minute, causing Jim to worry that he'd stumbled upon yet another item on the list of things that you weren't supposed to say to Vulcans. When Spock eventually spoke, however, his voice was calm. "I have likewise enjoyed our conversations."

Jim grinned at him, pretty sure that was about as good as it got, in terms of Spock-speak. "See, underneath it all, you're just as susceptible as anyone to the Kirk charm," he teased.

"Charm?" Spock replied, raising one eyebrow. "I believe you are quite mistaken."

There was that glint in his eye again, Jim noticed. "I love it when you tease me," he said without thinking.

His cheeks flushed red with embarrassment, all hope that Spock might have missed the potential double meaning of his words being crushed as he took in the pale green tint to Spock's own cheeks. The observation heated Jim even further, although he wasn't sure whether it was due to increased awkwardness or something else entirely.

Suddenly very aware that he was sitting on his bed, Jim got to his feet under the pretence of getting a drink of water from the bathroom, waiting until his cheeks had cooled before he returned to the bedroom. Spock had similarly composed himself while Jim had been gone, and was now regarding a data card benignly, as though he had not reacted to Jim's words at all. Wishing he could borrow a little of that Vulcan control, Jim moved back over to lean on the desk beside Spock, his limbs suddenly feeling heavy and cumbersome and like they didn't belong to Jim's body at all.

"Look, I know I've said this a thousand times," Jim began, partially to get his mind off the fact that Spock's eyelashes looked particularly thick and dark when viewed from above, "but now that it's all over and done with, I just want to say thank you one last time. I really _couldn't_ have done it without your help."

"It was my pleasure," Spock replied, the very Human phrase sounding oddly foreign on his lips.

Jim grinned at him, his previous awkwardness all but forgotten. Spock held his gaze for a moment — and then he smiled.

Jim couldn't decide whether he wanted to faint from shock or die of desire. It was only the barest twisting of the lips, probably not noticeable at all to someone who had not spent the past few days wasting entirely too much time studying Spock's face, but it was definitely there, unavoidably real. Something twisted in Jim's stomach, and then he knew, without doubt, that he wasn't going to be able to deny his feelings any more.

The smile faded within a matter of seconds, but the damage had already been done. Spock was studiously avoiding Jim's gaze, as if ashamed of his momentary lapse, which only served to reassure Jim that he had not just imagined it.

Stretching out one leg, Jim tapped his foot lightly against the perfectly polished toe of Spock's show. "So, what now?"

The question could have had a dozen meanings, but Spock, unsurprisingly, responded only to the most immediate. "The purpose of my visit _was_ to assist you to dismantle the four cameras," he reminded Jim, his voice sounding a little strained all of a sudden.

"In other words, I should stop talking and get on with the job?" Jim laughed.

"I am in no particular hurry," Spock said, which Jim was pretty sure was Vulcan for "actually, Jim, I enjoy your company".

All the same, Spock had a point. If the surveillance system had not been dismantled by the time that Gary returned, it was sure to cause a barrage of teasing and questions, none of which Jim would be particularly inclined to answer in front of Spock.

"No, you're right," he admitted. "I shouldn't keep you here all night."

This time, it was Spock's reaction that alerted Jim to the potential double meaning of his words. His eyebrows twitched as he looked away, steadfastly avoiding Jim's gaze.

Seeing that, and suddenly feeling bold, although he wasn't sure why, Jim couldn't help but add, "Unless, of course, you want me to..."

The startled look that Spock gave him was entirely worth the risk. "I... think we should get to work," he said eventually, quickly going on when Jim didn't immediately reply. "I have, of course, already removed the link between the cameras and my monitor."

Jim just smiled, pleased by Spock's response. "You mean you _haven't_ been watching us all this time?"

To his credit, Spock took Jim's teasing in his stride. "I have no wish to see Ensign Mitchell in the shower."

"It wouldn't just be Gary," Jim said without thinking.

Spock cleared his throat and looked away, appearing to be suddenly fascinated by the blank screen of Jim's desktop monitor. 

_Oh,_ Jim thought, and then _Oh_ once more, as a rush of heat flooded his body and pooled at the base of his stomach. His cheeks burning once again, he attempted to make the best of things by making light of the situation. "Come on, Spock," he said, trying to keep his voice as flippant as possible. "You know you only have to ask."

Spock turned back to Jim, his shoulders tense and his back ramrod straight. "Asking such a thing would not be... appropriate," he said quietly, his eyes dark with something that Jim couldn't quite place, but which, all the same, made Jim's chest tighten with anticipation and desire. 

He remained silent, expecting Spock to look away, but instead he continued to hold Jim's gaze, his eyes growing ever darker as the moment stretched.

Jim straightened, closing the space between them. "Appropriateness be damned."

Spock blinked, but did not resist when Jim tugged him to his feet. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes seemed to soften a little as Jim raised a tentative hand to press light fingers against Spock's jaw. Spock did not pull away, so Jim did the only thing he could: he kissed him.

Spock's lips were as hot as Jim had imagined them to be, although frozen by the surprise of the contact — or in condemnation of Jim's actions. The kiss lasted only for a few seconds before Spock pulled away, a shadow crossing his face.

His heart pounding, Jim opened his mouth to apologise, mentally kicking himself for being so reckless. Before he could speak, however, Spock's hands had shot up to grip Jim's upper arms, holding him a little too tightly as he yanked him closer, practically _growling_ as his lips met Jim's in another kiss.

The clash of lips was graceless and awkward, but witnessing Spock coming undone, his perfect control fraying, was easily the hottest thing that Jim had ever experienced. His head spinning, Jim pressed even closer into Spock's lean body, gasping into Spock's mouth as he realised that the Vulcan was just as aroused as he was.

Spock's grip grew even tighter, his lips ceaselessly hot against Jim's, crushing him closer and closer — and then, suddenly, pushing him away.

The feeling of loss was tangible. Jim's breath escaped his lungs in a soft sigh. "Spock?"

Spock was silent, but his expression was darker than Jim had ever seen it. Concerned, he reached out to touch Spock's arm, only for Spock to pull even further away, his features unchanged.

"Spock?" Jim tried again, his stomach twisting.

Spock met his eyes for a long, painful moment, and then looked away. "I apologise for my behaviour. It will not happen again."

Jim looked at him, askance. "No. It's fine. I think it _should_ happen again."

"It should not have happened at all."

Jim opened his mouth to protest a second time, but thought better of it, instead nodding and sinking back against the table. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have..." He smiled weakly. "I wasn't thinking."

"I should leave."

"You don't have to."

"I am sure Ensign Mitchell is capable of assisting you to dismantle the cameras if needed."

Jim sighed. "I don't _care_ about the cameras, Spock."

Spock held his gaze for a long moment, and then looked away. "I know. I'm sorry, Jim."

Somehow, Jim understood that there was no point in trying to argue with Spock. Just as he had seen Spock unfold, now he was witnessing the familiar barriers shooting up again, one by one, in quick succession. He stared at Spock for a moment. "It's okay. I understand."

And, in a way, he did.

Spock moved towards the door without speaking again, somehow managing to look completely unflustered, despite the turmoil that Jim felt sure had to be going on inside him. He paused momentarily as the door slid open with a soft hiss of air, turning to regard Jim with guarded eyes.

Jim forced himself to smile, although he felt like his entire body was bending under an ever-increasing weight. "Don't be a stranger," he said lightly, even as the smile froze on his lips.

There was a brief glimmer of light in Spock's eyes, but then he was gone.

*

Gary found Jim alone in their quarters, staring blankly into space, as his thoughts whirled out of control.

"Hey, Jimmy," he said softly, dropping down onto the bed beside Jim and gently nudging him with his shoulder.

Jim stayed silent, not entirely trusting his voice to remain light and carefree as he spoke.

Gary watched him for a while, his eyes concerned, before nodding once, his brows sinking into a frown. "It's Spock, isn’t it?" When Jim didn't answer, he went on. "My guess is that you finally made a move on him and..." His voice trailed off, his expression changing to one of disbelief. "Wait a minute. Don't tell me he wasn't interested after all! I mean, I could have _sworn_..."

"No, I think he was interested." Jim smiled wryly. "I'm pretty sure that was the problem."

Gary looked confused for a moment, but then understanding dawned on his face. "Geez, Jim, this is why you need to stick to Humans," he said, his tone light, even though his eyes remained sympathetic.

"I think I'll have to get you to hold me to that."

"You'd have been sick of him after about five minutes anyway, if your usual pattern is anything to go by." Gary nudged him again. "Come on, I'll set you up with that Ruth girl — Jessica's friend, remember? Jess says she's blonde and tiny, so she sounds just your type."

It was the last thing Jim wanted, which was the best possible reason to do it. "Sure. But she had better be cute."

Gary shrugged. "Eh, what does it matter, really? The important thing is getting right back on that horse."

"Horse?" Despite himself, Jim grinned. "That doesn't sound very promising."

Gary returned his smile, the worried set of his face loosening a little. "That Spock had better not come anywhere near you when I'm around," he said fiercely.

Jim rolled his eyes. "Your protective act is very impressive, but it's also unnecessary. I'm the one at fault here. And besides," he went on, as Gary opened his mouth to object, "I don't think you'll have to worry about that anyway."

Gary nodded silently, seeming to understand the full implications of Jim's words without question. Patting Jim on the shoulder, he clambered to his feet and stripped off his shirt, heading over to his cupboard to retrieve a change of clothes. 

Jim had homework to do, but he wasn't in the mood for it. He was so annoyed with himself that he was finding it next to impossible to concentrate. There was an element of frustration and sadness to his mood as well. It seemed quite unfair that he had cleared his name, only to counter that good news with his own foolish actions.

What he had said to Gary had been the truth; he didn't think they'd be seeing much of Spock from now on. Whatever tentative friendship had been growing between him and Spock had undoubtedly been halted before it had truly been given the chance to flourish. They would go back to being strangers, just as they had been before the events of the past week.

However, there was a strange conviction forming inside Jim, and it was the knowledge of this that propelled him up from his bed and over to the desk. He did not understand how he knew it, and he supposed there was a chance that he might be wrong, but the knowledge was there all the same: it didn't end like this. It might take months, or years, or even decades, but one day Spock would walk back into Jim's life, all stiff shoulders and raised eyebrows and infuriating logic. In the meantime, Jim had Gary and the Academy, and maybe even this Ruth girl, and that was more than enough.

Smiling, Jim picked up a PADD, ready to prepare for the following day's classes. No, he didn't know how it would happen, but he somehow knew that it would. And, even if it took until Jim had his own command, eventually he would regain what he, so foolishly, had lost.


End file.
